That I Should Rise and You Should Not
by rainbow-hat
Summary: Spring, season of meetings. Encountering Rick Grimes and his rag-tag family, Harry and his portkey lost friends are left wondering if this is the end of their troubles in a world infested with the undead, or the beginning of them. At least they have each other. Bonds form and new families are made as those who do not rise are buried and burned.
1. Chapter 1

_Ye be warned.  
There are character deaths ahead. It can, and will, happen at any moment. _

_However, feel free to review and ask for possible scenarios, love interests, etc. I'll be happy to know thoughts since I haven't planned those things into the story yet._

 _Also some foul language. I don't use icky language myself, but if I feel a character, or a story is suited for it, I'll include it for world-building sake._

 _After those two warnings – enjoy! Don't mind my terrible spelling and grammar ;)_

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 **That I should Rise and you should Not**

A Crossover Fanfiction

AuthorKylie

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Chapter One

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 _Just so folk can get an idea of the characters in this crossover I'm going to list them here – and then as more are added I will increase the list where necessary. (Not here, but further on, don't want to give anything away.)_

 _ **The Walking Dead Cast: (based on the TV show, not the comic books)**_

 _Rick Grimes_

 _Lori Grimes_

 _Carl Grimes_

 _Daryl Dixon_

 _Carol Peletier_

 _Glenn Rhee_

 _Maggie Greene_

 _Hershel Greene_

 _Beth Greene_

 _Theodore 'T-Dog' Douglas_

 _Biters/Walkers/roamers - the undead_

 _ **Harry Potter Cast:**_

 _Harry Potter_

 _Draco Malfoy_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _Ronald Weasley_

 _Fred and George Weasley_

 _Ginny Weasley_

 _Luna Lovegood_

 _Sirius Black_

 _Remus Lupin_

 ** _Origonal Character Cast_**

Semuyeru (Sam) Maz

Skyeola (Skye) Maz

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Harry sat up. On either side of him, in the dim moonlight, Ginny and Luna lay undisturbed in exhausted sleep. He was not surprised. Sirius had kept them moving all day, swiftly, without break, to try and find a place to camp.

The rundown shack Remus had discovered, some distance from the road they had been following, was the best they could manage. It was at least undercover, and the fire they lit to warm the girls was hidden from…Them…

Harry shivered. Curling his knees to his chest. _Them_.

Hermione had coined the term Biters. Not even Professor Lupin knew what they were. They weren't magical. This was—what had Hermione said—natural—a pandemic. He crinkled his brow, rubbing his scar. It had become a habit. It no longer hurt, at least, it had not hurt in a long time, but some things were hard to change.

Shifting the blanket aside Harry heaved himself onto his feet. He stepped over Luna, moving to the tiny kitchen of the shack. This had to be some sort of hunter's getaway, once upon a time. They had uncovered some coffee, a few cans of baked beans. Ginny had set about making flat bread out of the flour she discovered, along with the condensed milk.

Harry lit the stove with a softly muttered spell and set the coffee pot on to boil, laying out two mugs. He stared at the flames lapping at the wood.

He tried not to remember the horrors fire bought back to his mind. It was not just the burning cities scorched into his memories, the echoing boom of falling bombs as planes flew overhead, it was the dancing of hot fire alight on the tents at the Quidditch World Cup that had begun it all.

He crinkled his nose. Morgan Le Fay. He hated how much his stomach still curled in recollection.

Pouring the hot water into the chipped mugs he stirred the coffee. There was no lovely English tea about, straight coffee was bitter, but it cleared the head.

He wandered back into the tight living room. Passing by the twins curled up on a single couch. Fred and George could sleep anywhere, honestly. He smiled at them both, shaking his head fondly.

He found Draco by the window, studying the world outside, his silver eyes catching any movement in the darkness. He raised a hand in greeting as Harry seated himself on the large chair's armrest, offering the mug of coffee.

"You're not due to switch watch for another hour." Draco accepted the drink.

"I know…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Can't sleep. Bit restless."

Draco hummed into the rim of his mug. "Coffee won't help that."

"Yeh, well," Harry took a gulp of the bitter liquid, "clears the head."

"You need to get drunk."

"Sirius would kill me, twice."

Draco snorted a soft laugh. "True. True."

"Any of _Them_ out there tonight?"

"A few." Draco propped his mug on his knee. "Caught Professor Lupin out on prowl half hour ago, though, so I think he's keeping the perimeter pretty clear."

Harry nodded. None of them knew what it was about the werewolf within their old professor, who kept insisting they call him 'just Remus' but they all kept refusing—on principal Hermione would retort—but the Biters did not like the smell of the wolf that lingered within the man.

Perhaps it was because there was something underlining wild about him beneath the surface. Hermione summarized that if the Biters were truly the dead come back, and all they existed upon was instinct, then naturally, would they not be afraid of something which could tear them apart?

"At least they're afraid of something," Harry murmured.

"I can drink to that." Draco took a gulp of his coffee.

Harry curled his knees to his chin. It baffled him, sometimes, the oddity of his situation. If someone had told him a year ago, that he would be sitting having a decent conversation with Draco Malfoy he would have told them they were dreaming. Yet here he was, being chummy with the boy he had once refused a handshake from.

The world had changed so suddenly. Dramatically, everything he had known had dropped out from under him—quite literally. The Quidditch World Cup had been so marvellous and thrilling, even Hermione was excited to be attending despite her lack of enthusiasm for the sport.

Oh how he loved the Weasley Family for being so welcoming to him and Hermione. They bustled and bristled around them both like they were a part of the clan. Mrs. Weasley had made them all special Quidditch jumpers and bundled up cakes to eat. He could still recall so perfectly the way her face had smiled, how sweet she smelt, just having come from the kitchens, covered in sugar power. Her hugs could cure colds, he was sure of it. That was the last time he had seen her. It was the last time Ginny, Ron and the Twins had seen her.

Everything had been going fine, so wonderful, he had loved every moment of the Quidditch World Cup—until the Death Eater attack, the killing of the muggles. The chaos that had ensued after that, getting lost in the burning tent city, tumbling over dead bodies, only to discover those bodies moving, grappling, groping and eating. The horror had almost blinded him. He lost everyone in the mayhem.

Then Draco had struck him and dragged him through the flames.

Honestly, he had never been so relieved to see someone he considered an enemy.

They had found their way back to the Weasley's tent together—and—and

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his coffee mug tightly. Even now the scene was clear in his mind, scorched there to never leave, like a curse.

At the time none of them had known that the dead came back, they did not understand what monsters those dead became, so the shock, the horror, of watching Mr. Weasley and Percy become overwhelmed by vicious, hungry men and women—some faces they had known—was so striking they could not even comprehend it. Ginny could not even scream. Fred had simply grabbed his little sister around the waist and hauled her over his shoulder, and they had followed Draco as the Malfoy heir cut a path through the flames.

By the time they reached a safe distance, the shock had sunk in.

Everyone had started talking. Harry could recall Ron's demands to go back, George and Fred—for once in their lives ordering their little brother to remain—Ginny's tears against his shoulder as she sobbed.

"Shut up!" Draco had bellowed, throwing a boot he held into the centre of the circle they had formed. "My Mother made this, it'll take us to Sirius Black."

"How can we trust you?" Ron had screamed.

"Because my parents are dead. We will be soon too if you do not do as I say!"

"He's telling the truth." Luna grabbed the boot.

Luna knew, somehow, always, when someone spoke truth. Her words had been enough to sway him. Harry had surged forward with her. At his movement, everyone followed and the moment Draco's hand touched the boot, the horrible swirl of a portkey enveloped them.

They were dumped in the foyer of 12 Grimmauld Place roughly, landing on each other, arms and legs twisted about.

He could still recall Sirius' face, as well as Professor Lupin. No one was supposed to know about 12 Grimmauld Place apparently, but Draco seemed to know all about it, and had launched himself at Sirius, babbling something about his mother's last words.

Harry needed only to look at both his godfather's faces. They knew something horrible was going wrong, indeed, as they had stood and assessed their wounds, the sounds from beyond the walls finally began to seep in.

12 Grimmauld Place was not safe either.

Hogwarts was deemed the only truly safe place by all.

Harry was sure that perhaps, if they had taken the time to think, to pause and contemplate a little bit, they might not have made the mistakes they had ended up making. Perhaps Ginny, Ron and the Twins would not have seen Percy and Arthur ripped apart—perhaps Neville would still be alive.

The emergency portkey to Hogwarts that Headmaster Dumbledore kept within 12 Grimmauld Place was activated. All eleven of them had gathered around it.

Luna, Neville, the Twins, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Draco, Professor Lupin, Sirius and himself. _Eleven_. Was that the problem, he had often asked himself. Had they overloaded it? Or had it just been a fluke. He tried to believe it was just a fluke, it made him feel less responsible.

The portkey had gone haywire. Even now he could still feel the stinging pain of the chaotic twists and turns that had sent them all spiralling out of control. They'd lost Neville somewhere in the swirling mayhem, the boy had accidently let go. His scream haunted all their nightmares, Harry was sure. They would have lost Luna too, if Sirius had not grabbed her by her wrist. He had broken it. Sometimes she still held it as though it hurt—though perhaps the memory of Neville falling away from them was what hurt more.

When they had finally landed, in some pasture, spat out of the magical whirl-wind it had taken a long time to figure out where they were. Professor Lupin was unbelievably worried, and Hermione seemed just as anxious as they searched for road signs in the middle of no-where.

Draco had finally taken pity on his dumb face, apparently, for which he was immensely grateful. Everyone seemed to forget he was not as clued in on the whole magical travel thing.

"We've jumped continents, we're not in England."

He must have looked like some sort of fish, his mouth just hanging open. "I thought…I thought that wasn't possible without an international portkey from the Ministry."

Draco had raised his eyebrows. "Accidents happen..."

They all should have been angry. Ron was, for a while, but it sort of just—did not seem useful to be so angry when the world was collapsing around them and they were spectators watching on as whole cities were burned and bombed. Professor Lupin and Hermione managed to gather bits and pieces of information and news, putting together the scenario that had taken place.

Pandemic. That word. Harry cringed. A pandemic. A worldwide pandemic of the dead coming back to semi-life. Draco had spent the first month in utter silence. His whole life shattered, his whole reality collapsed around him. Sirius had to build him back up, piece by piece.

Ron, Ginny and the Twins faired a little better, they had each other to build strength from, but he knew the grief hung over them. Ginny had woken many nights, early on, screaming in terror, unable to escape the vision of her father and brother dying in the manner they did.

Ron had smiled at him brightly one day, seeming all cheerful and buttery. "Well," his best friend had chirped, "at least you don't have to worry about You-Know-Who anymore."

It had struck him at that moment, walking down the road beside all that remained of his friends—and someone he once would have called an enemy, his godfather and a beloved professor. His life was gone. No more Hogwarts. No more cursed Summers at the Dursleys. His wish to be rid of them had come true, but it had taken the world to end for it to be fulfilled.

He had looked to Draco and seen the hollowness in his silver eyes and he understood, in that moment, what the blond felt.

They were free.

Dear _Goddess_.

They were free.

But the world had suffered for their freedom.

Collapsing to his knees he had sobbed. He just could not stop the tears. Ron was completely baffled. Ginny had no idea what to do with him. Draco had approached and gently given his shoulder a firm pat before Professor Lupin urged him back onto his feet.

"Come on Harry, we can't stay here, They're coming."

And so they had kept moving forward in a land none of them really knew much about. Magic helped, he supposed, but it did not solve all their problems. There was only so much one could do, even with magic.

"You know." Draco stirred him from his thoughts. "We should go on a supply run tomorrow, everyone should be pretty safe here. We're pretty low…and I know the girls need some stuff."

Harry narrowed his lips, glancing back at Luna and Ginny. Somethings magic truly did not help with, like the typical things that came with being women. He was sure they would appreciate some sanitary products.

"We passed by that local general store sign…means something has to be coming up the road."

Harry nodded. "I'll bring it up with Sirius in the morning." He glanced at the dog lying by the fire. "You head to bed, Draco, I don't think I'll be sleeping anyway."

Draco heaved himself out of the chair. "Wake me if you see anything."

Harry tipped his head. "Will do."

Slipping down easily between Ginny and Luna, Draco rolled around, burrowing into the blankets. Harry watched him briefly. He was asleep almost instantly, collapsing from fatigue. Hooking a leg under his chin Harry turned his attention to the window, studying the dark world outside. The tall trees were still. Nothing stirred but the dead.

"I never would have thought, Voldemort, that I would find something to fear more than you…" Harry whispered.

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The morning air was crisp. Harry crinkled his nose. Winter was finally over, but it kept reminding them of how cruel it had been. He waved a fist mockingly at the sky between the tall pine trees. He heard Draco chuckle beside him. The blond finished tying up his beaten shoes, giving them a firm pat as he stood.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Harry tipped around toward the door of the shack. Hermione was saying goodbye to Ron, as she always did before departing on a supply run. Ron never went. The one time he had it had been a total disaster worthy of never speaking about again, so they never had. It was best, Harry had decided, to let those who were good at being quiet, and who knew what was needed, to take the risk. Sirius had agreed, though it irked his godfather that all three of them had to go at once.

"Come on Hermione!" Draco called out, "Or we'll leave without you, and then you can snog all you like."

Hermione swept away from a heavily blushing Ron and bounded up to them.

"It's a nice thought, Draco, but I'm not trusting you boys again. A pureblood prince and…" she eyed Harry, "someone who can't tell a tampon from a condom."

"Hey!" Harry pouted. "You said you wouldn't mention that again. Sirius didn't stop laughing for days."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Just trying to be a gentleman."

"You always do try." Hermione shouldered her pack. "Never works."

The door to the shack opened again, Professor Lupin exited. He finished clipping a blade to his belt and Harry glanced away from the rusty thing. He had seen the damage the werewolf could do with it, not just on Biters, but on anyone who threatened them. There was something to be said about the strength of a werewolf—it was mighty handy to have around.

"You all have your wands?" Professor Lupin strolled past them.

"Yes sir." Hermione quickly caught up with him, matching the man's strides.

"Good, keep them close. Let's keep this tight and clean. As usual, we'll pair up. If we get separated by the Biters, apparate back to the shack Draco."

"Yes sir." Draco nodded.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut briefly. It was frustrating that he had not yet got the hang of long distance apparating. He could manage it over a short distance, at least a few feet, which had got him out of a few tight spots, but over further distances he was still struggling with. Draco said it was a mental block. He was pretty sure his friend was right.

He was terrified of being lost in the whirl-wind of chaotic magic—just like Neville.

Draco was working with him on it, but for now, the blond stuck by him as best as he could.

Apparently pureblood kids learnt all about the skill from a young age from their house-elf nannies. He supposed it was rather like how muggles always watched their parents driving, and therefore, just innately knew the skills better. He was muggle-raised, did it stand to reason that was the reason he struggled a bit more?

Tah. Lucky brats. Harry chuckled as he trotted after Draco through the woods, catching up them by the edge of the road. They crouched behind a discarded car, peering out.

A Biter was munching on a fallen deer.

"Harry, you deal with that will you, while we get the car running." Lupin motioned.

Harry nodded. He pulled out his knife. Sirius had been very strict about their wand use. Wands were precious now, they only had one wand, and a wand could be snapped. While both he and Luna were quite skilled at wandless magic, the others were not. It was ever more difficult for some Wizards who did not have Druids in their ancestry. He approached the Biter, which only rounded up on him when he was a few feet away.

He pitied the Human it had once been, his heart aching. She would have been a beautiful woman once and now she was nothing but a decaying corpse. It just was not right. It was so awful. One of them he could deal with—it was when they came in numbers that he felt the terror of their strength. The trick, they had learnt, was to never let them get the upper hand, to never let them grab hold.

Swiftly he smashed his knife into her skull before she could lunge. The gurgling noise she made as she sunk to her knees, crumbling without muscles, but her eyes still fixed on his face, was painful.

Harry winced as he withdrew the knife and cleaned it on her shirt.

"Rest in peace now." He turned sharply and walked back to the car. Draco was dumping a baby cot out onto the road. Harry covered his mouth, his stomach twisting.

"Holy _Goddess_ , please don't tell me—"

"It isn't in here." Draco's head popped over the top of the small car. "I promise."

"Thank _Morgana_." Harry clutched his knees. He did not think he could take seeing another dead baby. The first had been bad enough.

"Come on, get in," Lupin urged.

Harry slid into the back seat beside Draco. Hermione joined the Professor in the front. Harry glanced toward Draco. It was eerie, sitting beside the pureblood, with Hermione in the front seat of a tiny yellow car, their werewolf teacher driving it.

Who would have imagined, right? Draco never muttered the word mudblood anymore. He barely muttered the word muggle either, they more often or not, heard Ron mention it. Draco smiled weakly, running his hands over the smooth texture of the car's seat, his gaze out the window, watching the forest roll by.

"Odd thing, this automobile."

Hermione turned in her seat, grinning. "It is such a shame we cannot show you aeroplanes."

Draco shook his head. "I saw enough of them, thanks. I saw what they could do."

Hermione sighed. "No everything muggles created were made to kill, Draco."

Harry propped his head on the car door window. This conversation again. Draco and Hermione could not help themselves, but then, what was Draco supposed to think, truly. His encounter with the mundane world had been pretty ruthless—guns—bombs—death. Hermione always did try to tell him of the wonders, but it never did seem enough to outdo the terrors.

Though he was pretty sure Draco was quite simply trying to get on her nerve. He chuckled softly.

They drove for a while, catching sight of a few Biters here and there, but nothing unusual. His head lifted off the window when Lupin eased the car into a slower gear. They were pulling up to a set of buildings. They looked promising. His mind instantly started to whirl with possibilities. He reached for his note book, flipping through the pages. All his life he had played dumb. He had played dumb to save himself from the Dursleys, he played dumb at Hogwarts to keep out from under the eyes of the teachers, but it never meant he did not learn. He learnt well. On his own. After all, he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione had noticed it pretty early on, but she had also noticed why he hid his intelligence and used her own intelligence to cover for him. He was grateful for her, really, it was nice to have a study buddy in on the secret-life-of-Harry-Potter. Neville had later joined them. Then Luna. Ginny was never really into studying, she was always going to be a quidditch star, like Ron, and he loved her for it.

Harry smiled warmly, thinking of Ginny as he thumbed through his homemade transfiguration spells, each had to be uniquely designed for each product they came across. It took a lot of time on his part, but boy-oh-boy would Professor McGonagall be oh-so-freaking proud of him now. Top marks, all round, thank you very much.

"You were right, Draco." Lupin pulled into the carpark. "General Store. Nice."

Draco gave a thumbs up. "A Malfoy always knows where to get the good stuff."

Hermione started laughing. Draco joined her as they hopped out of the car. Harry followed, head burrowed in his notebook.

He looked up at Hermione's worried voice. She as pointing toward a blue van that had seen better days. "Is that…another car?"

Harry stuffed his notebook back into his pack. He drew his wand as he and Draco circled the van slowly. No one was in it, but it did look as though it had been recently in use.

"It's warm." Harry lifted his hand away from the bonnet. "Someone else might be here."

Lupin frowned. "We procced with caution. They may be friend, or they may be foe. There is no reason to jump to a conclusion until we know for sure."

They nodded in unison.

It was not always the dead they had to worry about these days.

The living were just as frightening—if not more so.

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Sam studied herself in the rear-view vision mirror of the craggy old van. She turned the mirror slightly, catching sight of the stumbling Walkers ambling along. Three of them was not too much trouble out in the open, but considering her husband had been more than five minutes, and all he had said he was going to do was pee—well—

She pouted.

With a heavy slam she booted the van door open.

The Walkers swung in her direction, alerted by the sound.

Her fingers traced the handle of her machete, worn by her sweat and blood. Twirling it she approached the three Walker at a fast paced jog. She was small, it took a considerable amount of force behind her swings to do damage. Thankfully all her years of ballet training had been worth it, she was fit, she was flexible, she was agile and it was damn lucky in this new age. With a loud shout she hacked into the head of the first Walker, foul smelling blood splattered her cheeks. She reared back, kicking out, sending the body tumbling away. With a flourishing twirl she hued off an arm that came for her throat. For being already dead, Walkers sure knew how to grab and their grip was fiercely strong.

Sam yelped as her arm was grabbed abruptly. She heaved back on it, hacking at the foul creature yowling for flesh.

The swung rock crack across the skull of the Walker. It's grasp around her wrists loosened. Another swing and the skull cracked. The decaying body crumbled, freeing her. Sam yanked away, panting heavily.

"You all right?" Her husband stood over her, anxiously hovering.

Sam rubbed her wrists. Damn. They were too darn strong for being dead. It was going to bruise. She nodded quickly.

"I'm fine, it just surprised me." She glanced toward Skye. He was crushing the skull of the Walkers with his steal capped boot, as if making sure they were truly and surely dealt with.

Most folk would have mistaken him for a foreigner, considering his mixed heritage, but his accent was heavily American—while he had been born in India, he had only known America. Indeed, it amused her that his parents had been grand adventurers and he had been so landlocked. She supposed—perhaps—it was a blessing when civilization had collapsed around them, that she had been the one to come to him and he had not come to her. That she had chosen to abandon her prim and proper life, she doubted her parents were alive today—but she was.

She was here because Skye's parents had known how to survive, and therefore so did their son.

He swaggered up to her.

"I thought I told you to stay in the van."

"I thought you were just pissing."

He _tsk, tsked_ his tongue. "Mother would not approve."

She almost retorted that his mother was not around, but the lump in her throat caught her of guard. It was still to raw. She could not joke. Not yet. It might have been months past, but the reality was still—it was still too real, the screams, the terror, the faces of those—despicable—men—no— _monsters_.

"I was worried." She propped a hand on her hip.

"Had it covered." He swung his pack into the back of the van. "Come on. I thought I saw a sign for a general store some way back, we might be in luck today."

Sam crinkled her nose. She flicked blood from her machete. "Fine."

Skye's hand rested on her shoulder, he drew her in, kissing her forehead. His chin was bristled, unshaven, he smelt of their camp fire the night prior.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," she mumbled in reply.

Clambering into the van they ambled along the road. The day was a nice one, Sam concluded, had the world not been crumbling around them, she would have thought they were on a beautiful spring weather drive through the country side, but the constant reminders of the chaotic mayhem, the deaths, the ruins of what they had once known, were scattered about.

It was hard to ignore them. She closed her eyes, settling back into the chair, briefly touching her stomach before letting her hand slip away. This was going to be hard—

She was jolted awake by the van jerking to a halt.

Skye muttered an apology. "This old girl has seen much better days."

Sam yawned, stretching. She peered out the window at the general store. It looked—hopeful. Who was she kidding, what was hopeful these days? Skye hopped out of the van, grabbing bags. Sam followed. They studied the exterior of the shop. Sam propped a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. It was rather rare to find a place that had not already been raided, but they were still possible, after all, the land was large and people were growing less and less over time.

Skye moved around the front silently, testing the windows and doors.

"No booby-traps?" Sam asked as Skye studied the front entrance.

"Not that I can see. Though this would be a very good trap." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I would make this a trap."

"Your mind is awful." She rolled her eyes.

"Thanks love." He flashed her a charming smile.

He had taught mixed marital arts in a youth centre run by his parents. It was one of the few reasons he had actually left America, otherwise she was positive he would have remained where he was for all eternity. Perhaps his mother had known he was that sort of lad, who needed to be kicked squarely in the rear end to do anything. Skye had to be motivated by something immensely powerful before he decided to take action. It was frustrating, but she did love him, even the frustrating parts of his personality. She was the arrow tip of their relationship, she supposed, and he was the tail-feathers who gently urged direction from behind the scenes.

She had technically met him at a tournament in Japan—briefly—so briefly their paths had crossed, and like the gods had ordained their joining, they had kept in touch. Okay. Sooooo—maybe she had kept messaging the mysterious sexy man with legs of iron, but meh, it was the gods. Totally. She had nothing to do with it…at all…

But then again…she had been the crazy one who jumped on a plane to marry a man on the other side of the world.

Sam crouched behind him as he tried the door handle. It did not budge. He gave her a gentle wave of his hand and she rolled her eyes, stepping away as he prepared to kick it open. It was, apparently, not as easy done as in movies and tv shows, but boy did the kids at the shelter adore it when he had done it for laughs.

Legs of sexy iron. She was sure of it.

"Well. If there are any Walkers around, you gave them a welcoming call."

Skye grinned. He gave her head a pat. "Just so I can save your pretty little butt."

She shoved him aside. "Shut up, watch my pretty butt from back there, handsome."

"Totally okay with me, love."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Despite the light of the windows leaking into the small shop it was still dingy and dark. Sam pulled out her flashlight. The air smelt foul. Likely meat and fresh produce had long begun to rot or worse, somewhere, dead bodies were going foul. She knotted her nose in disgust. Snatching up two baskets Sam swung about to Skye.

"I'll go shopping for us, heh?"

"Sounds good. I'll go check if I can find us a new battery for the van, and some possible spare parts, you know, stuff like that, from the garage next door."

"I'll be in here, being all domestic housewife."

Skye bent, kissing her briefly.

"Scream a damsel scream if you need me." He waved.

"I'll come running if you do," Sam retorted.

His laughter vanished. Sam stuck her flashlight in her mouth, continuing her wandering through the shelves. Every so often she paused, noticing something of worth to add to her baskets, and soon she had not just baskets, but had set aside boxes by the door, stacking the items by their usefulness. They never knew when they might find a place to settle down for awhile—she hoped it was soon—but it was unlikely.

She crouched beside her stash, smiling faintly, proud of her work. A small frown touched her lips. "Oh, right…" her hand lingered on her waist. "That thing I needed. Damn. Where would that be in here?"

She twirled about on her heels. Would they even have it?

Sam poked her head down each row of shelves, slipping into the most promising possibility. Her fingers traced the dust absently as she crouched. Painkillers. Good. Cough drops. Good. Bandages. Another plus. Tampons, always helpful. Ah. She sighed heavily.

"Found you."

Sam stared at the pregnancy test. Her hands were trembling. This was so stupid.

"Ah, screw it." She grumbled. "No one is around anyway…"

Standing Sam picked up her basket, heading for the back of the shop.

She set the pregnancy test aside, buckling up her belt and seated herself on the stack of crates.

"Well, this is officially the craziest thing I have done in my life." Sam murmured. Her hand reached for the pregnancy test. Her stomach felt sick. Surely it was just nerves.

The crates shifted. Sam jumped up, her heart bursting from her chest in a sudden panic as a Walker grappled for her foot. She landed roughly on her face, cursing and spluttering as her flashlight rolled away.

"Shit." Snagging her machete from her belt she swung it, lopping off the hand that gripped her ankle. "Where the hell do you guys come from! I mean. I was making so much noise."

Her head snapped toward the swinging back door of the shop. Three more Walker's staggered in.

"Skye…" Her eyes widened. "Oh no…"

They came at her. She was roughly shoved against the broken window of the shop's management office. Sharp pain made her react as her arm was sliced. Swinging up a foot she booted a Walker aside, madly swinging her machete at anything. Grabbing for an arm that came to close she heaved the heavy body around, tackling it with a rush of adrenalin.

She slammed it against the wall, machete through its skull. Its vacant eyes stared back at her as its mouth moved for a brief moment in a biting action before all action creased in its limbs and it went slack. Sam breathed out, panic subsiding, she let the body drop and turned away with a soft sob, clutching at her wounded arm. She let loose a string of curses at the gushing blood. A low growl caused her head to jerk about and the nearby back door swung open.

"Oh, come on!"

She snatched up the pregnancy test and ran. She was not going to do this, not today. Her feet twisted suddenly around loose wiring. Sam yelped as she went head over heels, landing amongst the crates. The two Walkers swung toward her.

"Hey!" Someone shouted from behind. "Duck!"

She did. An incredible burst of light ignited around her.

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With the tips of their wands lighting their path through the shelves of the store, Draco and Harry moved silently. They could hear soft murmurs from far back in the store, Hermione and Professor Lupin deep in discussion about something in particular. Harry kept pausing, stuffing his wand into his mouth, picking items off shelves and packing them into his feather-weight charmed bag that had no limit to space. It was unbelievably handy, and he adored it. It truly was one of the reasons why magic made life easier.

Draco was shaking his head. "The very idea that _you_ had to scavenge for food…it still…bothers me."

"Don't know why, you've had some time to get over my Boy-Who-Lived-Prince-of-the-freaking-Magical-World-Image." Harry muttered from in between two shelves, wiggling around as he reached for a can of rice-cream. He studied it thoughtfully, contemplating the possibilities in his mind. He shrugged, dumping it in his bag. He could figure out the transfiguration duplication spell later. It was not as if he did not have the time.

Draco sighed. "Yeah. I know. It's just…the Potters, you know, it wasn't right."

"Even if my father hadn't been a Potter, it wouldn't have been right for any kid, Draco." Harry raised an eyebrow.

His friend shrugged. "True."

The fact that Draco Malfoy could admit such a thing still brightened Harry's smile, and he gave a genuine one, not the forced false smiles he knew he tended to wear as a mask. Draco returned it with his own small smile.

Harry pointed with the tip of his wand. "Can you grab that fishing gear, that might come in handy."

Draco turned about, staring for a moment before pulling half a shelf full of stuff into his own bag.

"That will do." Harry twirled on his feet. "Guess I'll just sort it out later. Oh…jackpot, soda, oh, oh, and breakfast cereal, oh, and look, waffle mixture. Nice. We can mix that with water and cook it on a stove. Oh. Oh. Draco! TEA! I found TEA!"

"Merlin and Morgan Le Fay, you found bloody tea!" Sarcastically Draco made a dancing movement with his hands. "We're saved."

Harry chased him, throwing out tickling spells. Draco dodged each one, laughing. "To slow, Potter."

Rounding a corner, they jerked to an abrupt holt, faced with two Biters.

Harry's breath froze in his chest.

Draco moved instantly, his wand moving almost too fast for Harry to see as spells flung out, cutting the nearest Biter into pieces as it lunged at them. Harry curled up in a ball, yet through the shelves, he caught sight of a shining light.

A torch. It was swinging about in the darkness.

He grabbed Draco's ankle.

"Bloody hell, Harry, don't do that, I almost cut your arm off."

"Someone…someone is in trouble."

"Who."

"I don't know. Quickly."

Harry scrambled over the floor, under the shelves. A woman was crawling away from two Biters, a trail of blood—so much blood—leaking from her arm. Harry sucked in a sharp breath. Oh no. He heaved himself onto his feet, drawing his wand.

" _Expecto Patronum_."

Light flared about him. Draco tore past, like lightning, swinging the beater he kept attached to his belt. He swung it, with all the force he could muster, smashing it into one of the Biter's legs, breaking the brittle bones.

It went down, collapsing.

Harry dodged past it's chattering mouth just as Draco swung again, crushing it. His friend rushed away, continuing his assault. Harry lost sight of him. He dropped beside the young woman Harry gasped out.

"Are you bitten?!"  
"No, no, I just tripped." She shook her head, then, as though seeing his frantic look, she noticed her arm. "Oh, this no, no, stupid Walker pushed me into a broken window."

"Thank _Merlin_." Harry breathed out. "Do you think you can walk?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Ah." She began to search around them. "I lost something…did you see a little stick somewhere?"

Stick? Harry looked around. He shifted. His hand encountered something short and smooth. He curled his fingers around it and pulled it out from under a tumbled box.

Harry stared at the object in his hand. He knew what this was. This was a pregnancy test. He had seen his aunt with them over the years. Wait. Harry sucked in a deep breath.

"Oh _Merlin_. Oh. Dear. Oh…oh!" It was positive. It was positive!

The woman beside him smiled weakly at the positive sign. "Let's ah. Not tell anyone about this…"

" _Goddess_." Harry gasped. "You didn't know. Ah. Congratulations?" He tried to smile. Whatever was he supposed to say in this situation.

She laughed softly and ruffled his hair. "Thanks."

Draco's voice echoed through the shop. "Harry! _Merlin_ , Harry! Where are you? We've got trouble."

He did not have time to grab his wand. The metal shelves rained down upon them, the two Biters tumbling over like loose leaves. Harry curled himself around the wounded woman despite the jolting pain jarring his leg as the heavy weight of the two dead walkers and the metal shelves crushed the appendages. He bit his lips. He had survived worse.

"Harry!" Light from Draco's wand lit the eerie darkness. Blood spattered his glasses as he dared to look up. A limb was severed, an arm, it went flying away. Draco always did have impeccable aim with his cutting curses. Harry smiled weakly down at the woman under him, who was blinking in confusion at the whole affair.

"Are you all right?"

"I should be asking you." She wiggled about. "We're pinned." Her hand moved, he felt her searching for a weapon but it was no use, the shelves had them wedged.

"Draco! We're pinned down. Draco!" He heard the panic in his voice.

"Sam. Are you in there?"

"Skye!" The woman—Sam, Harry guessed—yelled from under him, returning the allusive voice of a man. Harry winced as the Biters clambering for them were suddenly dragged back by the ratty clothes they wore. A man swung them away.

Draco shouted. "Watch out."

The man lashed out a leg, smashing the nearest Biter against the wall, the force of the blow crushing the skull against the bricks. His fist hit the second in the chest, sending it staggering back. Draco swept out his wand. Harry winced as the blond flung a cutting curse spell, lopping off the Biter's head.

The man was left standing in a fighting stance, blinking at the sight of the Biter's body dropping into a pile of loose, twitching muscles, and Draco holding his wand out.

"Wow." The man grinned. "That was incredible."

"Ah…thanks. You were pretty cool too." Draco gushed.

"Yeah, yeah, amazing," Sam flapped her uninjured arm, "can you please stop patting each other on the back and come get this shelf off us!"

"Sorry love." The man approached, crouching down beside them.

Harry winced as Draco quickly jumped over the fallen shelf, landing beside him, frowning at the damage. "Anything broken Harry?"

"No, I think I'm just bruised."

"You're so clumsy." Draco grumbled.

"You get that side lad, I'll get this side." The man crouched.

Draco held up his wand. "I've got this."

Though the light was dim, Harry caught the swish and twist of the wand, and though Draco's voice was barely a whisper, the spell was easily recognisable as the feather-weight charm. A good choice. The pressure around his legs was released and he sighed with relief as Draco easily lifted the whole shelf straight into the air.

The man dragged Sam free, inspecting her legs. Harry hobbled onto his own, ignoring Draco's anxious eyes.

"You always get into the worst situations. We need a sign on you."

"Shut up."

He watched the couple. They had not reacted to the use of magic at all. Professor Lupin had not forbidden them from using magic in front of muggles. The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy simply did not exist anymore, so why bother, he had grumbled. They had all agreed. It was stupid, they figured, to not use their natural born talents in a crumbling, chaotic world to help people who did not have such gifts.

But muggles still should have been—a little—well—amazed right?

The man turned toward them, a kind smile crinkling dirty cheeks. Harry rubbed at his own skin, wondering if he looked just as grotty. It was likely so. It had been a long time since he had bothered to wash his face. Aunt Petunia would be mortified.

"Thank you, both of you." American accent. Harry frowned. It defiantly was American, but the women was not, he had no idea where the woman was from.

"I'm Skye," he touched his chest, "and this is my wife, Semuyeru."  
"Just Sam," she chirped. "Sam is fine."

"I'm Harry and this is Draco. Sorry about the…ah…chaos."

Sam shook her head. "No, no, please, I am grateful you boys came when you did. Saved my cute butt."

Harry beamed at the praise.

Draco suddenly stepped forward. "Your arm! It's bleeding badly. We need to get into some sunlight so I can have a look at it."

Skye grabbed a pole from a ruined shelf and headed to the door at the back of the shop. Realizing what he was doing, Harry quickly joined him. He watched as the man cleared the Biters away and heaved the door shut. He wedged the metal through the handles, giving a heaving twist. Harry stared in awe as it bent around itself.

"Wow." He breathed out. "You're strong."

Skye gave the door a pat. "Hopefully that'll keep out anything else."

They jogged to catch Sam and Draco.

"What happened?" Sam looked to her husband. "There were no Walkers around and then suddenly…?" She swung out her arms. Draco hissed at her as he grabbed her wounded arm.

Skye picked up his heavy looking pack. "The garage was packed with Walkers. I managed to get most of them locked back in but a few got out before I dealt with them. Sorry. Had no idea they'd get back here so quickly. Damnable things."

Harry pointed to the front door ahead. "Our Professor and Hermione should be waiting outside. Hermione is always pretty punctual." He chuckled.

"She's got our healing kit." Draco hurried Sam along.

Sunlight blinded them as the existed. Harry rubbed under his glasses, squinting. The fresh air was a huge relief. He breathed easier, feeling as though a tight rope around his lungs had been released. Hermione's voice bought some cheer.

"Harry, Draco! We found all this stuff…piled…by the door…" Hermione's shout trailed off at the sight of the two adults following them. Harry motioned to them as Professor Lupin came around the car, his jaw tightening.

"This is Skye and Sam. We sort of ran into them. I think the stuff you've got there Hermione is actually Sam's loot."

"Oh…" Hermione blushed.

Skye stepped forward, bowing. "Your boys saved my wife, I am very grateful. Thank you. We would be quite willing to share our supplies with you in gratitude."

Harry whirled about. "No! I mean…no! That's not necessary. You guys…will…ah…need them." He glanced toward Sam. "Seriously."

"That is not our problem right now." Remus looked down the road.

Harry was surprised. Usually Professor Lupin was all over people they met, asking them questions, sniffing them out with his wolf. The Professor handed his battered binoculars to Skye, motioning to him to use them.

Harry leapt onto the car bonnet. He peered down the way they had come. A pit swallowed his stomach. In the afternoon sunlight the swaying of bodies lumbering down the road was visible. He licked his lips. Already he could smell their foul scent on the wind, or maybe that was an illusion. He wanted to be sick.

"That's a horde." Skye lowered Lupin's binoculars. "Damn."

"Our cabin is back that way." Remus shook his head. "I had hoped they'd disperse but no such luck." Remus accepted the binoculars back. "Which way you heading?"

"Pretty much wherever the wind takes us." Skye shrugged.

Remus held out his hand. "Remus Lupin. The kids call me Professor, but please, call me Remus."

"Professor?" Skye looked to them curiously. Harry beamed. Most people were somewhat confused by the sight of teenagers, British teenagers to be even more curious, with two adults. It was a little—odd.

"I was their Professor, _once_. They keep insisting on it." Remus shook his head.

Hermione piped up. "Because he still teaches us many things."

Remus' smile was a gentle one, shown by the crinkles under his eyes.

"Your van can fit more people and more supplies, would you be willing to drift someplace else for a while?"

Skye turned toward his wife, leaning upon the bonnet of the car. Harry slid down beside her as Draco finished stitching her arm. He tried not to look to hopeful, he did not want to give away her secret, it was hers to keep and hers to tell but he felt sure they would be better off with more people. His _hero complex_ as the other's had dubbed it, was coming out.

"What do you think, Sami?"

"What are the sticks for?" Sam nodded at Professor Lupin's wand.

"Oh," Hermione jumped up, "we're witches and wizards. Well, I'm a witch, the boys are wizards. They're our wands."

Harry waited for the denial, the asking of proof but none of it came.

"Magic." Sam muttered. "All right. Well. The dead are walking."

"You believe us?" Harry slipped off the car.

"Sure." Sam shrugged, but winced from her wound. "Had the world not gone ape-ball, maybe not, but now…anything is possible. You're all magic. Cool. Whatever. Let's go." She jutted a thumb at the van. "The old-girl is a bit temperamental, but she'll get us around."

Harry helped as Hermione grabbed his hand. "Let's get this stuff packed! Everyone will be so happy!"

They floated the boxes into the back of the van, much to Skye's amusement. Harry looked to the man proudly, happy to show off. His hair was ruffled.

"I have muscles kid, I like to use them."

Harry shrugged. It was a true enough statement he supposed. He would have liked to have been just as strong, but magic sure did make things go quicker.

"A true muggle." Professor Lupin chuckled. He pulled out a map, laying it over the back seat. Hermione studied it with him, pointing out possible roads.

"We could just…drive through them?" Draco looked back to the Biters, ambling through the sunlight. They did not look so frightening this far away, but Harry felt the hairs on the nape of his neck curl. A shiver crept down his spine. This was not good.

"No idea how many there are." Lupin shook his head. "We'd never make it. I suppose we'll just have to head around the long way." He rolled up the map and looked to Skye. "Thank you."

"Nope." Skye clapped his hands. "Owe your kids one for helping my wife. Let's blow this joint boys and girls."

Sam gave a whoop. "Boys in the back! Girls in the middle. Because we're awesome, right?" She high-fived Hermione, who could not stop laughing.

Harry clambered into the back seat, Draco joining him. He turned slightly, peering out the back window at the horde. Draco's hand settled on his shoulder. "We'll be fine."

"I'm worried about the others."

"They'll be fine too, the cabin is pretty far from the road."

Harry nodded. They had left the twins and Luna on guard duty. Surely they would be all right—and Sirius would never let anything happen to Ginny, he loved Ginny like a daughter. The van pulled out of the carpark and Harry stared out the window. Ginny. He curled his toes. She would be so happy with all the tea he found.

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 _So this is an idea I've had tossing around in my head for a little while now. Finally decided to start just writing it out. I'm very rusty on my fanfiction writing ^^; Sorry._

 _This is a crossover between_ The Walking Dead _and_ Harry Potter _and whatever other fandoms I decide to add along the way depending on how many characters I kill off. So. Yes. Forewarning guys. Character DEATHS ahead._

 _Also. Spoilers for_ The Walking Dead. _Please DO NOT read if you DO NOT want The Walking Dead spoiled for you. I recently just watched Season 1 through to Season 5 in a few weeks and it's a brilliant show to watch without spoilers. So glad I had avoided them up until now. It's been a battle to avoid them for Season 6. ^^; (Which yes, I did just recently watch and OH MY GOSH THAT ENDING. AHHHH! Good thing Game of Thrones came back, or I'd be going mad not having anything in between.)_

 _For a timeline –_

 _This fanfiction takes place in Season 3 of The Walking Dead, and Goblet of Fire/Order of the Phoenix for Harry Potter, though I've taken some liberties ^^;_

 _Sam and Skye are OC's from my own novels – and are in Human form, since in my novels they're aliens. So this is a fun bit of practice to get them to work in another setting._

 _There is art up on my deviantART page for this fanfiction – should be more coming as I get through the character list._

 _So that's it from me folks. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the beginning._

 _Keep well. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

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 **Chapter Two**

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They had not returned.

Luna knew she should not have been so worried. Harry, Draco, they were capable of many things. Hermione was awfully smart and Professor Lupin was a werewolf, he was strong and protected everyone he loved fiercely. He would never let anything happen to any of them if he could help it.

But it was getting late.

Her fingers were growing cold from the chill in the air.

Brushing back a lock of hair, a sigh parted her lips. It was unwashed, greasy, sliding between her cold fingers. She must have looked like a tree nymph now, covered in grime and leaves, standing beside the great pines all around her. The earth magic under her feet was strong in this place and it surged through her. Nothing was coming, they were still safe.

She made to turn away, to let Fred know that all was well, when something surged through her feet. It was oh-so familiar, oh-so wonderful. For the briefest of moments, she thought that perhaps her father—

No.

She choked on the sob. She knew her father was dead, she had felt it, just like she had felt her mother's death. This was someone…

She looked up, through the mist.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the man, just as dirty, caked in mud, and filled with earth magic as she was. He stood, staring at her, his crossbow poised, but his eyes, such a piercing blue, were so startled. She felt as though it was like he had seen a white deer and was entranced by its beauty—she was the white deer. His crossbow dropped loosely to his side.

Luna's fingers twitched against her wand. He was not a bad man, earth magic surged around him, hugging him, telling her he was balance.

More voices caught her attention. She twisted about in alarm. Through the dim light of twilight, she watched as a harrowed group tumbled out of the woods, all stopping before the earth magic man had stopped.

She backed away in alarm at the sight of them. The man with earth magic stepped forward, holding out his hands in a sign of truce.

"Lass, we don mean you any harm." Oh. Oh. His voice was so magical. Luna blinked. She almost did not know what to do. What would her father have done, meeting another person with earth magic like this?

Her eyes though, went to the warm beating light radiating from a petite woman, who was sickly pale, clutching her stomach. She was heavily pregnant. The life within her needed help—she needed help.

"You need water, and food…" She studied them all. "Rest. Fred!" She called softly. "Please go get Sirius, there are people here who need help."

There was a stand-off. Silent. Still. Luna waited, studying the group. Winter must not have been easy on them.

A crack of apparition sounded nearby. Luna felt Sirius' magical signature, along with Ron's and Fred's. Sirius was always easy to feel, he was cold, like ice, the years of his abuse in Azabkan had eaten away at his magical core, making cracks in it that let a draft in. It made her shiver every-time she reached out her own aura to brush against his. He would have been such a powerful wizard, if he had not been sentenced to such a cruel punishment. Now his magic leaked out, uncontrolled, so volatile. It did not make him dangerous, or angry, in fact, it made him peaceful. He could not allow himself to luxury to get angry. She was touched gently on the shoulder and drawn back into the fold of protection given by the three men. Ron's heavy build almost smothered her, so much like his mother, loving, cuddling, friendly. He could not help but radiate the warmth of a fire, it was in his blood.

Her eyes though, kept trailing to the earth-magic man. So much like herself, so much like her father.

"Who speaks for you?" Sirius spoke softly.

A man stepped forward. He was so haggard, they all were, but it was as though something haunted his steps. Luna frowned, drawing on her third-eye. A gold chain linked the man with the pregnant woman, and the young boy standing beside her. A family. He was the father and the husband, yet why did she sense such sorrow from all of them?

The boy's eyes were downcast, she could not even see his face from under the large brimmed hat he wore. He must have been handsome under it, if his father's worn features were anything to go by.

"I do."

Sirius nodded. "I'm Sirius Black. Luna said you need aid. We have a cabin through the woods, we're held up there for a few nights—we're just waiting for some of our group to return from a supply run, but you are most welcome to stay, though it may be a bit cramped. We have food, and water, if you need it."

Sirius raised a hand. "But please…I only have children with me, so…" he touched Luna's shoulder, "don't try anything. Luna tends to be a good read on people, but, the living are more terrifying then the dead."

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It was a tight fit in the shack, but the added bodies warmed the confines along with the fire and the newcomers sure did seem like they needed the warmth. Luna hummed softly as she boiled the pot of water on the stove, adding more wood to the crackling flames. She turned, studying the lofty shelf and the chipped set of mugs too high for her to reach. She pouted, her shoulders sagging.

"Right…" She pulled out her wand. She made a motion to summon them down but stopped midway through as a voice startled her.

"Need a hand, lass?"

Oh. It was him—the earth-magic man.

Luna turned. She smiled. He was still dirty, he still smelt of the pine forest, and of coiling magic leaking up through his boots. She doubted his crossbow missed its target very often, the earth simply would not let it miss.

"Daryl," he offered. "Daryl Dixon."

"Luna Lovegood." She chimed brightly in return. "Could you, ah, get the mugs for me." She stowed her wand back in her sleeve.

He nodded and silently reached up, plucking each mug off the shelf, handing them to her, one by one. She checked them, making sure they were clean, before setting them on a tray, adding a teaspoon of coffee. Daryl took the boiling water from the stove and carefully poured it out.

"Haven't had coffee in a while."

Luna giggled. "That's what Sirius said when Draco found it."

"Draco?"

"One of our supply runners, he's out at the moment, with Harry, Hermione and Professor Lupin. He's our other adult."

"Only kids, two adults." Daryl frowned. He looked as though he was putting the information aside for something. Maybe they had all been talking about them, confused as to why there where only just kids and no adults—maybe they had thought it a trick. It would not have surprised her, they all looked as though they would not trust something good to come along.

Luna shrugged. She told the lie Sirius had said to tell, because it was not as if she could say a Portkey had gone wrong. "We were on a school trip. Then shit hit the fan."

She caused a faint smile to touch the man's lips. It must have been something funny. Hermione hated it when she said the phase, but Harry always laughed and rolled around like a little boy.

"Some school trip," he muttered.

"Yeah." She took up the tray. He held the door open for her and she dipped her head in thanks as she took the mugs out into the small living room of the shack. The heat of the fire blazed against her cheeks. She sensed Daryl behind her and watched as he moved around, coming to sit himself nearby the leader-man. Rick. Rick was his name. She had to remember that.

She offered Sirius the first mug and he gave her head a gentle pat, before she quickly trotted around, offering other mugs to those who wanted them. She finally found herself in front of Rick. His eyes were like Harry's eyes—they told the most amazing story. So stormy, so sad, so full of anger and guilt. Just like Harry. She wished dearly that she could just reach inside his mind, brush it all side, and assure him he was not at fault. Just like Harry, Rick smiled wearily, while truly not meaning it, but she was grateful he tried as he accepted the mug from her tray.

"Thank you."

"Would your son like some soda?" Luna piped, looking to Ginny, who beamed suddenly.

"Oh yes!" Ginny jumped up. "We have a few left. I was saving them for Harry, Draco and Hermione when they got back…but I am sure they won't mind!" She dug into her pack, pulling out three cans. She held them out. Three different flavours. Personally, Luna really liked the cherry flavour one.

The young teen, beside his mother, was staring at the cans as if he had never seen them before.

"Maybe, when Draco, Harry and Hermione get back with Professor Lupin, they'll have found more." Luna offered. "And you can have them too!" She wanted to be positive for the young teen, he seemed like he needed it.

He looked as though he did not know what to do with what was offered to him. His eyes shifted to his father, then slowly to his mother before she nodded and he quickly accepted it.

"Thank you."

Luna wiggled down into a seat beside Sirius. "I'm Luna, this is Ginny, the Twins are Fred and George, but good luck knowing which is which, Ron is their younger brother. Ginny is the youngest. They're all red-heads. That's how you know they're a family! The Twins are the oldest of us. Ginny and I are the youngest by a year."

"Oh." The boy blinked. "How old are you."

"Fourteen."

His face brightened into a sudden smile. "You're my age."

"Fancy that." Ginny sat back on the arm of Sirius' chair. "Didn't catch your name?"

"Carl. I'm Carl." He slowly took off his hat, revealing his chestnut hair and pale blue eyes. Luna hummed silently. She liked it when she was right about things—he was quite handsome. "Thanks for the soda. I don't know how long it's been since I've had some."

"Well, Harry is very lucky. He always finds the good stuff." Ginny shrugged. "It's just part of his magic."

Everyone tensed as the door rattled. Luna noticed Rick went for his gun, Daryl made a movement for his crossbow, and even Sirius' wand appeared in his hand but it was just Ron—and—Glenn and Theodore, no—that was not it—the man had said to call him T-Dog. Yes. T-Doggie. Luna giggled. How did a name like T-Dog come out of Theodore? It surely had to be the result of Nargles!

Glenn and T-Dog had offered to help Ron set traps, they had both seemed to see just how tired Ron looked. The weight of worrying about Hermione was bearing down on the Gryffindor's shoulders.

Luna worried her bottom lip, stopping only when she noticed Daryl was watching her. She quickly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

Ron stamped his feet on the mat. "Set up the traps with Glenn." He motioned to the man beside him. "We should be set for the night if Professor Lupin doesn't come back, but I'll keep watch, sir."

Sirius gave a nod. "Thanks Ron."

Ron shifted past the newcomers, planting himself by the window.

It was unlikely Ron would sleep tonight.

Glenn tucked himself down beside his girlfriend, Megan.

Luna was pretty sure, by their very similar auras, that the elderly gentleman Hershel, Megan and the young girl Beth were all related, likely father and daughters. She was glad that families had still managed to stay together. It was hopeful.

Though. Her gaze shifted to Rick, his wife Lori, and Carl, still enjoying his soda—

Lori's aura was off, ever so slightly. She was not sure if it any something to do with the unborn baby, but whatever it was, it was affecting Rick something terrible. Luna narrowed her lips. The strain on the man who must have felt a large degree of responsibility for the group was terribly obvious, but it was ever more so obvious when she looked into his aura.

She wondered if Daryl could see it too. If that was why the earth-magic man stayed with the group, protecting them.

"Is it just you, with the children?" Hershel inquired, breaking the silence.

Sirius shook his head. "I have my best friend, Remus Lupin. Other than that, yes, it's just us and the kids." He beamed proudly. "They've done us proud." He hugged Ginny to his chest. "Brave souls."

Hershel squeezed Beth's leg tightly. His daughter smiled shyly. "Yes, they are brave."

Luna slowly stood. She looked to Sirius. "I'll get some more blankets."

She knew Daryl's eyes followed her into the back room. He would have followed her, no doubt, if she had been too long. She wondered if he realized just how strong the earth-magic in him was, how much it compelled him to protect those he considered family.

He knew. He had to. Because she had always known.

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Three days.

Luna worried her lips.

Three days.

Harry, Hermione, Draco…Professor Lupin…

Three days.

She sat on the front step of the shack, studying the woodland beyond, misty with a carpet of morning dew left over from winter. Jack Frost was still nipping at her nose. Tears, they wanted to trickle down her cheeks, but she could not let them—she dared not let them.

Inside she could near the newcomers beginning to rise. Carl was nice. He was beginning to smile a little more and he talked to Ron. If the Twins could not make someone smile, then Ron could, with his kindness and he gentle soul. Anyone who was Molly Weasely's son could make someone feel warm and welcome.

The shack door squeaked open.

"Worried for your friends?" Beth was every bit Hershel's daughter Luna thought. Hershel made her very comfortable, and he was always telling the most wonderful muggle stories from his black book, which she thought was something important to him. Beth had the same comfortableness about her. While her aura showed things had not been easy for her—not in the least, for her beautiful white glow, so much like her fathers, was tainted with spots of brown for inking depression. Her soul had been cracked, only for it to be gradually pieced together by the family she had gathered around her.

Luna smiled at the girl. "Yes. They are very dear to me."

"I worry for my friends to, when they leave." Beth folded her arms behind her. "We just can't show it to them."

"No. We can't."

Beth eased down beside her on the brick steps. "I'll sit with you, if you like."

Luna nodded. "Thank you."

It must have been about an hour later when the figures of Daryl and Glenn appeared through the trees. Luna scrambled up, running down the steps, toward the earth-magic man and his friend. From the open doorway of the shack, Megan came out, along with Rick.

Luna skidded up to Daryl. "Did you find anything?"

"A lot of Walkers." Daryl frowned. "Might not be safe much longer." He glanced to Rick and Sirius.

Luna tugged on his wrist. "Harry?"

"How long have they been gone now?" Daryl queried.

"Three days." Luna piped. "It shouldn't have been so long. They were only going down the road, to a general store. Just for supplies." She glanced away. "They're never this long."

He nodded, turning toward Glenn and Rick. "Me and Glenn, we should check it out. It'd be best to know about the Walkers anyway."

Luna's head snapped up. "I'll come!"

Sirius held out his hand. "Now Luna—"

"Professor Lupin won't know if they're with us. You know how protective he gets. What if they're pinned down in some horrible little room and can't get out? Merlin forbid, Sirius, the full moon is only a few nights away, what if they're out longer than that!"

Sirius' hand dropped. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"I'm entirely equipped for these situations. Harry and Draco taught me too."

"She's right, Sirius." Ginny pressed. "And they'll need her if anyone is wounded. Draco won't be able to heal everyone, they'll need potions, Luna's our potion girl."

"Fine. Fine. But I swear, you apperaite back here the first sign of trouble. Promise me." Harry's godfather crouched down, setting his hands on her shoulders. "I couldn't stand to lose any of you."

Luna nodded. She swung around to face Daryl with a beaming smile. "I'll get my potions bag!"

With a skip and a hop she swept into the shack. Finally. She was going to be more useful!

"Potions?" Glenn's voice called out. "What potions?"

She heard Daryl's soft laugh as she vanished into the cabin. He knew. None of the newcomers knew, but the earth magic man already knew. She had the feeling he had known the moment he had laid eyes on her.

He knew she was a witch.

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"So…a witch." Daryl's voice was so soft, yet craggily from the cigarettes he smoked. She could smell one on his breath right now. "My mah was a witch."

Luna cocked her head around. "What type?"

"The worst." He shrugged. "The bitchy sort. She left us."

"I'm the best sort." She twirled about.

His smile was so faint, it lingered on the edges of his lips.

Silence crept between them again. Only the sound of their feet upon the road. Glenn came running back toward them, he shouldered his gun. "There is a sign ahead indicating the direction of a general store, so there must be a small town nearby but there is evidence of a horde coming through."

Glenn shifted his gaze to her briefly. She knew what he was indicating.

They might have been caught up in the hordes movement through the area. She could only hope not.

"Let's keep going." Daryl motioned with his crossbow.

Luna continued to skip on ahead, the comfort of the two men's eyes freeing. It had been a long time since she had felt able to freely skip down a road, perhaps it would be a good thing to have more people to travel with.

According to the quick _tempus_ she cast, it had taken them almost two hours to walk to the general store. Upon seeing it, a small amount of anxiety lifted from her shoulders, though she was not sure why. Daryl's hand settled on her shoulder. The strength behind the grasp caused her to stall and she eased behind both men, letting them take the lead. It was likely Sirius' warning about her life was just as much in their mind as it was in hers.

"Someone's been here." Glenn motioned to the open door.

Daryl silently motioned to a run-down blue van. Its door was open, supply boxes sat around it. Someone was indeed here. But—but why—why would Harry have not come back sooner to tell them. Luna squeezed between Daryl and Glenn, clutching her wand tightly.

"Luna."

She heard something heavy thud on the ground nearby and spun on her heels. Harry was crouching beside a bin, that had been pushed up beside a wall. Had he climbed it? It did not matter. It was Harry! She ran, arms out.

Harry swept her into his arms. "Thank _Morgan Le Fay_." He breathed against her neck.

"Where have you been?" Luna pulled away.

"You wouldn't believe the time we've had getting back here." Harry set her back down. "Hermione! Draco!" He called out. From within the general store excited footsteps echoed. Hermione was the first to burst out, followed closely by Draco.

Luna giggled as she was gathered into more arms.

"Luna. Sirius let you out?" Hermione muttered.

Luna pouted.

Draco rolled his eyes. "She is quite capable of looking after herself."

"Thanks, Dragon," Luna whispered. "What happened? You've been away three days?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "There was a horde that came through, but we met another one fleeing from it and we had to take a detour back around. Then the _bloody_ van broke down."

"Harry, _language_ ," Hermione piped.

"Whatever." Harry snorted. "On the plus side, we broke down near an old-folks home, got some meds!" He held up his bag. "Draco was ecstatic."

Luna giggled as Draco pulled a face. She had a hard time imagining Draco ever actually looking ecstatic about anything, but she supposed it was possible. She tensed, sensing Daryl's approach. Harry's eyes widened slightly, his wand snapped out. She flung out her hand, stalling the over protective hero.

"Don't, he's with me!" She stepped back, bumping into Daryl's waist. His hand seized her shoulder. His jolt of earth-magic calmed her sudden, jittering nerves. It would have been awful for Harry to start a fight, but he would have. Harry was terribly over protective of anyone he loved. She had a feeling he and Daryl would get along on that level.

Harry raised an eyebrow, lowering his wand just slightly.

"This is Daryl Dixon and that's Glenn Rhee. They're part of a group that met up with us a few days back. We came looking for you."

"Seems we've grown a bit." Hermione muttered, "Good thing Sam decided we should double back to get more supplies."

"Sam?" Luna blinked.

"Yeah." Hermione nodded to the nearby garage. "We met up with a couple here a few days back. Sam and Skyeola. They've just been wandering about so we joined forces. Skye and Professor Lupin are trying to get another car up and running so we can get more supplies."

Glenn looked to Daryl. "I should help out."

Daryl nodded. "Glenn's good with cars."

"That'd be awfully helpful. Skye and Remus look as though they're about to give up." A voice called down from the roof of the general store. Luna looked up, unable to contain her smile. So that was where Harry had been, on the roof. A young woman had her legs dangling over the side of the roof, looking about to lunge down, onto the old bin. Harry panicked suddenly, running toward her.

"Sam! Don't you dare."

"Oawe, I'm fine."

"I keep telling you," Harry shouted, "you shouldn't be taking such risks."

The woman made the leap. Harry threw up his arms and Luna bit her tongue, holding back the laughter as her friend stormed around in annoyance as the woman climbed down from the bin. She flicked his nose playfully.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry keeps having hissy-fits at her. Haven't seen him act this way since Ginny did her ankle in."

Luna frowned. She opened her inner eye, studying the petite woman as she approached them, laughing at Harry's antics. Her eyes betrayed her weariness, and her age, despite her size. She was not as young as she looked from afar, even in the ripped skinny jeans, flared skirt and leather jacket butted up against the spring chill. It was her aura, though, that gave it away—the reason why Harry was acting hero-mode.

Luna popped her lips.

She was pregnant.

Harry must have known. No one else did but Harry.

Luna shook her head. Typical Harry. Daryl's hand on her shoulder tightened again and she looked up at him, his eyes were studying the woman too, and she wondered if he could tell. It was probably likely. Glenn held out his hand. Sam took it before stepping back and bowing.

"Korea?" Sam asked.

Glenn rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Japan?"

Sam nodded. "Yup. Husband's a bit of a blend though, Ethiopian and Indian, but he's only known America. Who is tall, grubby and handsome?" She jutted a finger at Daryl.

"Daryl Dixon." Daryl inclined his head.

"Semyueru Maz, but please, call me Sam." She waved her hand toward the garage. "The boys are in the garage, trying to fix up the landrover in there. Mind the dead Walkers, we had a lot of clearing out to do."

Draco shuttered. "Awful."

Sam clapped her hands. "Let's keep getting those supplies. Now that tall, grubby and handsome is here, he can take watch. I gather that's fine with you, sir?"

Daryl raised an eyebrow. He gave a nod to Glenn who jogged away with Harry in tow toward the garage. Fixing his crossbow Daryl released Luna's shoulder. "Give a call if you need me."

Luna beamed in delight. She was finally going to be doing something useful, helping Hermione and Draco with supplies. Skipping after them she gave one glance back toward Daryl, standing beside the blue van, his eyes turned to the horizon.

Things were finally looking up for them. They had met good people in a terrible world.

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Sam wiped the sweat off her neck. The sun was getting high, biting down on them. With a huff she tugged her jacket off, slinging it over the vans bonnet. Leaning back on the car she opened a water bottle, sipping the cool contents. It was interesting just how much stuff was left over from the whole—end of the world. They could scavenge for years and still find food, but eventually what they had once cherished would fade.

Like the stupid cars. Gas evaporated inside tanks. There was nothing that could be done about it. Her eyes glanced toward the garage. If fixing the landrover took any longer they were going to have to give up, but if Daryl and Glenns group were as large as they made it sound—then they truly did need the extra large car.

She sighed. The kids had nearly cleared out all of the viable goods in the general store. Doubling back had been a good idea—she hoped—well—Hermione, Draco and Harry seemed incredibly happy to see their friend again and it showed the folks back at their shack were worried enough to send backup.

She stirred from her thoughts as tall, grubby and handsome made his presence known. He thumped his crossbow down on the bonnet of the van.

Sam studied the hunter.

The girl Luna seemed to trust him inapplicably, and it was unlikely she trusted easily going from her nature.

Daryl held out the nut bar. She stared at it in confusion.

"The boy, Harry, he insists you eat it."

Sam snatched it from his grasp. "Damnable child."

"Pregnant women do tend to need to eat."

"He told you?" Sam hissed.

The hunter shook his head. "Some people can just tell."

"Yeah well, thank goodness my husband isn't one of _those_ people. Think Harry is over protective, Skye will never let me out of a bloody-damn room once he knows." She tore into the nut-bar. Truthfully, she had not actually realized just how hungry she was. Now that she had something in her mouth her stomach clenched at the memory of food.

Daryl frowned sightly. "He seems like a reasonable man."

Sam laughed. "You two would get along, being all macho manly men."

He shook his head, lapsing into silence. She ate her nut-bar, humming contently. Upon finishing it, another was shoved into her face and she pouted up at the tall hunter. She would have refused if she had not been so hungry. The tiny, so subtle smirk he wore needed to be kicked off his face.

"How long have you known?" He turned his gaze back to the road and the few Walkers scattered about.

"About three days." Sam shrugged. "I might be, I donno, two months along. I think I'm actually starting to show, but Skye hasn't noticed, cause you know, don't get naked much." She wiggled her eyes. "Sex isn't entirely something you think about these days."

Daryl grunted.

She laughed and clapped him lightly over the head with her water bottle. "Oh come on, you were totally thinking it."

"You obviously thought about it _once_."

"Once is all it takes my friend." She winked. "Best make sure the kiddies know that, heh."

The garage doors swung open with a clatter, the roaring of an engine coughing and spluttering could be heard in the silence of the noonday. They both turned to watch as the landrover rolled out, Glenn waving from the driver's side, looking chuffed.

Daryl sighed. "Good."

"Yeah, about time. Oie! Kids! Magic time, let's get these cars packed so we can roll on home. Hop to it."

Hermione and Luna leapt down from their seat on the bin, joining Draco and Harry. Swiftly, and much to the awe of Glenn who fired off dozens of questions, the four filled both van and landrover with the boxes of new supplies.

Skye and Remus exited the garage, wiping oil stains on rags. Sam threw them both water bottles.

"Nice job, boys."

Skye sipped his water. "Your mate Glenn is a lifesaver."

Daryl shrugged. "We've been around."

"It's one thing magic can't do." Remus sighed. "Machines. Utterly useless I'm afraid. I do hope you and your group won't mind our…ah…somewhat un-orthodox methods?" He looked to Daryl hesitantly.

"If Glenn's enthusiasm is anything to go by, you'll be fine." Daryl took up his crossbow. "Rick is…uneasy…at the moment, his wife is about to pop with a bub."

Sam felt the hunter's eyes linger on her briefly.

"But I'm sure he'll feel better knowing you folk can help. We had a rough winter. " He moved away, joining Glenn and the kids.

Sam breathed out a tight breath she had not known she had been holding. Remus headed around the van, muttering something about their map and Sam watched him vanish. Skye finished washing his arms and face with his water. She shook her head.

"That doesn't help, hon, you still look like you've got a layer of grit all over you."

Skye grinned. "I'm sexy."

"Yes, you are. Thankfully the population of women competing for you has diminished considerably."

He chuckled and tugged her close. "Sweetie, you never needed to worry."

"I don't know, dead women seem rather interested in eating all that sexy flesh of yours." She smirked.

Skye pressed his lips to her forehead. His long arms smothered her. She was wrapped in a cage of hot sweat, car oil, and the off-putting stench of days-old blood, but it did not matter anymore, she likely smelt just as bad. They fitted together like puzzle pieces. Why was she so afraid of telling him—if this world was different, if they were back before everything had gone to hell, this would have been such a wonderful, exciting moment in their lives.

His parents would have been so happy.

He would have been so happy.

Would he still be happy—

She choked back a sob against his shirt, curling her hands into the fabric. If only—

"Hey…hey…" He tugged away, cupping her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Oh, you know, emotional."

He raised a brow. "Hm, yeah, that's a code word for something, I'm sure."

She stamped roughly on his foot. "Yeah, it's code for _screw_ _you_."

"You have screwed me, numerous times, love."

"Oh my gosh. Skye! There are children—" His lips captured hers before she could protest any more, and she melted like cold butter against his hot skin. Fine. Fine. She was going to have to tell him. He deserved to know.

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With both landrover and van packed they had decided to split into two groups. Professor Lupin, Glenn, Hermione and Draco piled into the landrover, leaving Skye to man the old rickety van. Harry eyed the piece of junk wearingly as the landrover rolled past. Draco gave him a thumbs up.

"Good luck, Potter! See you back home, if you get there! I'll snog your girlfriend for you."

"Shut up, Malfoy, and she isn't my girlfriend."

"All the more reason for me to snog her."

"I'll strangle you, Malfoy."

"Give it your best try, Scar-Face."

Harry heaved himself into the van, smiling at Sam and Luna. Both girl's rolled their eyes at him. There was no way he was going split himself from Sam now, and there was no way he was going to lose sight of Luna either, despite how much he instinctively trusted Skye and the strange man Daryl.

They both seemed very much like him, if he was a muggle, they protected with their lives too. He had no doubt that they would have thrown themselves in front of a Biter to save someone they loved. Which was odd, because Daryl looked like the sort of guy he would have run from once. Harry shrugged it off—the world had changed, all sorts of people came together now, whoever they had once been. Maybe he would even have been friends with bloody Voldemort!

All right, maybe not that far. Harry chuckled.

Daryl slammed shut the van door, tapping Skye on the shoulder and they chugged off down the road, following the landrover into the afternoon mist.

"Finally." Harry leant back, stretching with a long yawn. "What a detour."

Luna hugged him. "I am glad it did not end badly."

"So am I, Luna." He kissed her cheek.

His gaze turned to the rolling forest and his stomach knotted in an uncomfortable twist. They still had a way to go for something to go-badly. He would not rest easy until he was back at the shack, looking at Ginny and Sirius again.

No Biters disturbed their comfortable drive, and Harry was not sure if it was a good omen—or an ill one—he tried to take it as a good sign, that the horde which had passed through had taken the whole swarm of nasty undead out of the area. That would have been nice.

He snorted at his dreaming. Yeah. That was all he needed, for him to let his guard down and get munched on. _Arthur and Merlin._ Draco would hex him to yesterday if he got himself bitten because he got idle. War Heroes like Harry-Damnable-Potter-Boy-Who-Didn't-Save-The-Wizard-World never let their guard down.

Following the landrover into the tiny clearing that held the small shack, Harry loosened his tense shoulders. The Twins both emerged out of the trees from their hiding spots, followed by a grey haired women bearing a gun.

Daryl heaved the door to the van open. "Carol, everything all right?"

"All clear." She nodded in reply. "We're all fine."

Daryl climbed out, Luna and Harry followed. Skye introduced himself through the open window of the van, motioning to Sam in the seat beside him. "We're stragglers, got picked up along the way."

The woman, Carol, smiled kindly. "Seems spring is the season for it."

Harry almost landed on his rump at the sudden influx of weight that hit him. Ginny. She was in his arms, wrapped around him like a strangling vine. Not that he could complain. He relaxed. Closing his eyes he squeezed his arms around her. Hugging—and touch—it had never been a strength of his—but now he would not know what to do without it.

" _Merlin_ ," Ginny whispered against his neck, "I was so worried."

"Sorry." Harry pulled away. "We had a bit of an adventure."

"You always do, Harry." She tittered. He stroked back a lock of her hair from her freckled cheeks. Ginny sunk into his shoulder, collapsing like a loose petal. These little moments, they were what he cherished.

Ron and Hermione were sharing a smothering hug, and Harry watched as the Twins descended upon Draco, causing him to hex them both as they danced around him, but his small smile told a different story, he was happy at the attention they gave him and they knew it. Harry held back the swell of tears. His family was safe.

Thank the _Goddess_.

Two heavy hands fell on his head, ruffling his hair and Harry looked up into Sirius' face, weighted with lines. He must not have been sleeping the past few nights. Harry bit his lips. He supposed it could not be helped, making people worry, it would always happen.

He let himself be hugged by his godfather. "Glad you're back, pup."

"We've got a lot of supplies, so it was worth it, and we found some friends."

"So did we." Sirius chuckled.

Harry peered around at the group emptying out of the small shack. Daryl was right. The winter had been hard on them, but none more so than the pregnant lady. He winced just looking at her. Draco was going to have his hands full with her. Introductions where given all around, and he filed away names.

Hershel, Maggie, Beth and T-Dog. All so different, yet all so much the same. What a curious bunch. They must have been together for a long time, and survived many things. He tried not to fall into his uneasy, untrusting instinct, wanting nothing more than to protect his family.

They were a family too—that much was obvious—and in this new world, everyone just wanted to be safe, however that meant to them.

"Draco," Harry called out, "we should take a look at Lori." He motioned to the pregnant woman waddling around, between the supplies they unloaded.

Siding up to him Draco held out a hand. "Do you have that book on potions for nutrition? We never reached it in Potions…"

"Ah…" Harry opened his bag, thinking hard for the title. Nothing came to mind. "Hey! Hermione, what's the name of that text book for Seventh Year Potions, the one that goes along with Herbology, you know, the one that belonged to…errr…Neville?"

Hermione called out. "The Value of Plants and Ooze."

"Thank you." With a swish of his wand he summoned the book out of his bottomless bag, flinging it at Draco.

His friend snorted. "Show off."

Harry shrugged. "Without Hermione I would forget everything I have in this bag." He pouted at an alarming thought—if she died—he pushed it aside—such thoughts were stupid. Draco clapped him over the head with the book.

"Come on, you are our cook. You've got a big job to do tonight."

Harry breathed out, nodding at the large gathering all milling about the cars, chatting in excitement. It made him smile, the sight of people, happy at simple things like cans of beans and toilet paper. Yep. The world might have gone to shit, but at least two-ply toilet paper could make it a little better.

Squeezing into the shack that night was quite the interesting endeavour, but the more bodies, the merrier everyone seemed, and the warmer they all where. It was unlikely, Harry mused as he stirred the large pot of baked beans on the stove, that he would ever be able to sleep alone again. He had become so used to company, to the sound of Ron storing, to the bodies of the girls pressed nearby, knowing they were safe because he could feel their presence. Hearing the footsteps of Professor Lupin and sensing his wolf's magic pulsing the closer the full moon grew.

The added company was welcome, despite how jittery he was about Biters noticing the increased presence. He was not the only one who thought about the undead. Daryl, Rick and Professor Lupin were out in the darkness, along with the Twins—and he had a feeling they would be outside all night.

Professor Lupin's wolf was growing stronger as the full moon grew nearer, he wanted to prowl, and it was best to let him do so.

"Is everything all right, Harry?"

He turned slightly as Lori entered the small kitchen. Rick's wife had a gentle smile on a face that was too thin. At first he had thought she looked rather like his Aunt, gaunt and horse-y, but up close he could tell how wrong his first impression had been.

She was gaunt because of the winter, and the strain of the pregnancy on her—and something else too, something sad lingered in her eyes, making her pluck at her sleeves shyly.

"Quite fine, thanks, Lori. If you like, you can check the bread I whipped up. It's cooking in the stove."

"Bread?" Lori gasped. "Really?"

Harry chuckled. He heaved the heavy pot of baked beans off the stove and slapped it down on the tiny bench, letting Lori past so she could crouch and study the bread inside.

"It's not much. I found a few packets of yeast, which hopefully I'll be able to duplicate."

"Wherever did you learn to cook." Lori pulled the tray out of the small stove, admiring the little round buns, which he thought looked more like scones. His Aunt would have been horrified at the state of them if she had been here. Not his greatest ever achievement, but he had to make do with what he had. He wished he had cheese and some herbs, but a transmuted cow did not make milk until it bred with another cow and made a baby bow, so it was a bit useless to transmute a cow from a block of wood. It was still, under it all, just a block of stupid wood that looked like a cow. Magic worked on somethings and not other things—it was so confusing. How did it breed, why didn't it make milk, why couldn't he make cheese from it? Oh, if only he had made it to Seventh Year Transfiguration.

He grumbled in annoyance as he crouched, sorting through the one box of supplies he had allowed to be carried inside. Everything else, other than some blankets and toilet paper had been left in the cars, just encase a mad dash for safety was needed. He thought it was rather a good idea of Rick and Hershel. Showed good planning.

He found the one plastic plate, the one spoon and the one cup he had taken, setting them on the table.

"My Aunt was a terrible tyrant of a woman, hated cooking, but loved the attention that a well cooked meal could get her in the neighbourhood. I had to learn from an early age how to cook." He sighed. "I could whip up a three course meal by the time I was nine. Gordon Ramsey would have been so proud."

He flicked his wand, " _Geminio,_ " he muttered the doubling charm, not letting it stop until he had enough of the items for every member in their new large family.

"That was before I knew I was a Wizard, too." Harry looked back to Lori with a smile. "Magic does make cooking a little easier."

Lori shook her head. "Sirius explained there was a whole hidden world we never knew about. Rick didn't believe him until he…he…turned into a dog."

He could not help but laugh at the thought of Sirius turning into a dog in front of Rick.

"I really hope Rick didn't try to shot him."

"Carl was too excited about it." Lori accepted the cutlery, adding them to the tray she held. "Is it something…you can learn?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, you sort of have to be born with it. Carl can enjoy the benefits of my cooking though."

"We are very grateful."

"It's honestly no problem." He headed out into the tiny living room, where everyone had once more gathered in the heat of the fire place. "So? Whose hungry?"

Cheers echoed in his ears and Harry grinned. That was a delightful sound. Happiness. He could cope with this horrible world if it had just a little bit of happiness left in it.

He and Lori spooned out the baked beans and handed out the rolls evenly.

Skye heaved himself to his feet. "I'll take some out to the boys on duty, they'll need the warm tucker."

"Thanks." Harry offered the pot and plates to the man. "There are beers in the boot of the van too if they want them. Should keep them happy."

Sam sprung up. "I'll come with you!"

"Sam, it's okay. Stay here, in the warmth."

"Nope." Sam swept to the door. "Those sexy undead ladies I was talking about earlier might come and nibble on you."

"You are insufferable." Skye sighed, but his smile was genuine.

"Yes, but I am your insufferable wife. Now, move it, husband." They vanished out the door and the chill of the night air vanished as it clapped shut behind them.

Harry nibbled on his crunchy bread, wondering if he would ever love Ginny as much as Skye seemed to adore his little, bouncy wife. He glanced over at her, sitting by the fire, chatting to Carl as the boy ate his second helping of baked beans and sipped on his soda. The flames lit her red hair in an incredible glow, illuminating her as if she was a phoenix.

Whatever had happened to Professor Dumbledore and Flawkes? Had they survived? Was Hogwarts still standing. A long sigh escaped him. Sirius rubbed his back gently, comforting him with the fatherly gesture and he leant against his godfather. It was good to be back amongst family. Harry closed his eyes, sensing the exhaustion of the past few days settle over him like a blanket as the murmuring of voices became a lullaby.

Sleep encased him.

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"You should have stayed inside Sam, got some rest." Skye flicked the small torched around, flashing the signal for Daryl and Rick. He set the pot down on the ground and removed his coat, wrapping it around Sam's shoulders. For once she did not protest and leant against him. He gathered her to his chest. She was such a fiery sprite. But he supposed that was the reason why he had been drawn to her. She had been like a spark in the darkness, and had turned into a blazing inferno that had consumed his entire existence. His parents had laughed at him when he had returned from Japan, his only trip overseas, to splutter out that he had found a girl to love.

They thought him cute and sweet and so innocent.

They had not met Sam yet.

When they did—oh—oh how then did they know just how much he had fallen so in love that fateful day of meeting. Truly, if love at first sight existed at all, he was a prince captured by a tiny dragon who stole his very soul.

Sam kicked a few stones lightly with her boots. Her head buried in his chest.

She was avoiding something. She always acted out of character, shy, coy and sweet when she could not speak her mind. Eventually though, she would blurt it out in a rush of words he would have to interpret, some of it would likely be in her native language. She had a habit of slipping back into Japanese when she was worried, or angry, or even happy. He thought it beautiful, albeit a little bit difficult for their conversations.

He hugged her tighter. As long as he let her know he was there, surely it would be all right. That was what his father had always told him—he just had to let her know he was not going to leave. Love was forever or something sappy like that. His old-man had been terribly romantic. He was sure that was why Sam had adored the old fellow.

"Skye…"

"Hmm."

"I ah…have something…important to tell you."

"Hmmm."

"I'm sort of…pregnant."

"Hmmm…what?" He stepped back slightly. "What do you mean sort of, you can't be _sort of_ pregnant."

She pouted in the lantern light. "Oh, fine, I am _totally_ pregnant, are you happy now?"

Happy. His stomach lurched. Was that the word he was supposed to use. What would his father say, what would his mother say—no—no—what—what would he say.

He breathed out. "I love you."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, Skye, but I'm scared. Shit. I'm so scared." Sam covered her face as a croaked sob escaped her lips. She curled against him.

He felt inadequate, useless, pathetic as he gathered her into his arms and gently rocked her. No words came to mind to bring comfort. The world was terrifying. She had every right to be afraid and he could not tell her to be otherwise. He could promise to protect her—but he could not promise fulfil such a promise, and he doubted she expected him to do so. She would never put that pressure upon him.

Out of the forest he watched as Daryl and Rick emerged. They both paused a few feet away and he inclined his head, letting them approach. Rick crouched by the pot, testing the baked beans.

"Still warm."

"Heating charm." A voice piped up from behind them.

One of the Twins appeared suddenly. Which one it was, Skye had no idea. Rick offered him two bowls. He vanished again in a faint crack.

Rick shook his head in wonder. "Amazing skills."

Daryl spooned his beans into his mouth. "Guess she told yeh?"

Skye frowned. "You knew?"

"Some people can just tell." The hunter shrugged. He briefly shifted his stance, causing Rick to go for his gun, but both relaxed as Remus made himself known with a flicker of his wand. Rick passed over another bowl.

Remus sighed in relief. "A good meal, _Morgan Le Fay_ be blessed." He paused. "Sam all right?"

Skye nodded. "Apparently we're going to be parents. She'll be fine in the morning when she's cried it all out."

"I hate you all," Sam muttered against his chest.

Daryl chuckled. "I would get a beer for you, but, no alcohol for you for nine months."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

Daryl waggled his spoon. "Careful, luv, you'll get it bitten off."

"Skye, your new best friend is being a dick. Kick him for me."

Skye chuckled, shifting her gently under his arm, smiling gratefully at Daryl. If anything, a good sparring match of words always got Sam out of her spunk.

Rick's gaze shifted to the shack. His brow furrowing. "We're going to need a better place. We can't stay here. It's not safe. Not for the kids, not for Lori…or Sam. No place for families."

Remus massaged his temples. "The problem is…just where?"

The question sat amongst them in silence. None of them could answer it but they all knew somehow they had to find the solution.

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Luna really needed to pee.  
She stared at the ceiling of the shack, frustrated. It was not yet dawn, and everyone in the small living room were all sleeping, but she really, really needed to pee. Beside her Ginny was curled up tightly under blankets, and to the other side Carl was spread out like an eagle. If she moved, she was bound to wake one of them.

But the call of nature was rather loud.

With a sigh she carefully untangled herself from the blankets.

Sure enough, Carl shifted, stirring from his sleep. His eyes blinked and she felt his gaze on her as she stood.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

She nodded. "Just have to pee."

"Oh…err…right," he murmured.

Luna carefully stepped over Glenn and his girlfriend, making her way to the small toilet off the side of the kitchen. The air beyond the reach of the fire was cold, and it was worse when she sat on the toilet. She shivered, glad she had her wand to light the darkness.

Creeping back toward the warmth, she paused at the door. Carl was still sitting up, obviously waiting for her. He waved. Luna smiled. He was very nice, but his aura was tainted with the bitterness of the scary world. She had no doubt that he would not hesitate to shot the gun he had nearby to protect them—but then again—was it any different than her firing an Unforgiveable to protect her family?

Luna gasped as the door slammed open. Everyone in the living room was awake in an instant as Professor Lupin burst through.

"Sirius! Get up! We have to leave, now!"

"What…for _Merlins_ sake, what's going on?" Sirius scrambled onto his feet.

Professor Lupin ran inside. "We are about to get over run. To many to take down. Get in the cars. NOW!"

Gun fire echoed from outside. Luna froze. Terror shot through her feet. She could not move as everyone rushed around her in a sudden frenzy.

She was lost amongst the mad rush, shoved and bumped. Landing roughly against a wall Luna curled up tightly, hugging arms tightly around her.

"No, no…no…" she chanted.

"Luna!" A hand grabbed her wrist, wrenching it tightly. Daryl dragged her through the shack and out into the dark forest. Biters were everywhere. She struggled, panic setting in. She had to get away!

"Stop, Luna, stop, struggling."

Luna squeaked as she was hauled up around the waist and heaved over Daryl's shoulder. He ran, belting the Biters surrounding them with his crossbow. She clung tightly to his back as the world bounced. He was yelling orders through the fray of blitzing wand light. Draco cut past, dragging Lori behind him. Luna watched as he shoved her into the landrover, spinning sharply on his heels and apperating on the spot, appearing behind Beth, grabbing her arm and snapping back to the car. The girl was half way between a scream before they landed on top of each with Draco cursing loudly.

"Get in the bloody car!" He heaved her off him, shooting a cutting curse at the nearest Biter. "For _Merlins_ sake! Get in!"

Maggie rushed past, pulling her sister in with her. Draco jumped after them.

Luna sensed Daryl jolt her down sharply. They had reached the van. Sam was slamming the door open, ushering Lori and Carl in.

"Where are the Twins?" she shouted.

"They transfigured horses!" Remus called out, "And went on ahead."

The landrover roared to life ahead of them, vanishing into the thick forest. Skye shouted through the window of the front seat of the van. "We have got to go!"

Sirius spat out a consistent string of curses, clearing their path. "Where is Harry…Ginny? Harry!" He looked back toward the shack in sudden panic. Rick joined him, loading his shot-gun.

"Damn it, they both can't apparate." Remus gripped his machete.

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. Rick charged back down the path without hesitation, toward the shack, and the doorway filled with Biters. Sirius followed him, the glow of curses from his wand filling the forest. Before they even reached half way, the door buckled. Luna cringed at the surge of magic flowing from the earth. Harry was angry. The windows of the shack burst, along with the door. Glass and wooden debris sat suspended in the air for a brief moment, before collapsing as Harry's magic scattered like sparks. Biters surged forward as though called to a flame. Harry and Ginny ran through the open doorway.

Rick fired off rounds, knocking flat any Biters in their path and Sirius ran toward the two. Luna held Daryl tightly. Shaking her head. Even in the pre-dawn light, her eyes caught sight of the Biter, lunging out of the shack. Harry's twisting movement was too slow. He had stepped too far ahead of Ginny to shove her away. The Biter snagged her, roughly, as though she were a doll, and grabbled for her neck.

Her mouth opened in a scream that pierced the forest.

Harry's flung curse shot the Biter back, blasting its head clean off.

Ginny clutched at her throat. Her eyes wide, staring at Harry in a blank, confused state. Blood spurted out of the bite wound as she staggered forward.

Harry stepped for her, his hand out stretched. Luna watched as Sirius snatched him around the middle and apperated in a crack. Ginny dropped, the Biters piling onto her. Luna smothered herself into Daryl's chest.

Sirius and Harry suddenly appeared in the van's back seat, the echoing snap of the apperation's completion causing Daryl to jerk about. Rick swung into the middle seat, slamming shut the door.

"Go! Skye! Go!"

Skye needed no second bidding. The van heaved forward, mowing down Biters.

Harry lurched for the van door. Sirius wrenched him back, smothering him in a bear hug. "Harry, Harry, it's too late."

Luna held back the vomit in her mouth as Harry thrashed about, his magic lashing out in a wild, untamed fury. "Let me go! Sirius! LET ME GO! I have to save her!"

"She's gone. Harry. She's gone. HARRY. You are hurting Luna!"

Daryl's arms pulled her away from Harry at Sirius' words. She saw Harry's eyes widen at her before he settled back, panting heavily, tears streaming down his blood stained cheeks. He choked on a sob, collapsing into a ball and his magic curled into himself until it was almost like it was not there. Luna burrowed into Daryl's lap, hiding away in his shoulder. Ginny. Ginny was gone. Her best friend was gone. A light, so bright, was snuffed out.

Daryl rocked her gently as she cried, and she must have cried for a long time, for his leather vest grew very wet, and yet he did not seem to care. All that mattered—

Ginny was gone.

Like her mother.

Like her father.

Like Neville.

She clutched closer to Daryl and whispered, "Please, don't ever leave."

His arms tightened.

It was enough of a promise.

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 _Hope you all enjoyed the second chapter._

 _Keep well my friends,_

 _Cheers,_

 _KL_


	3. Chapter 3

_26/06/2017_

 _Fixed a little thing about the Governor. Cause I wrote him having an eye-patch originally but...whoops...got a little ahead of myself in the story-line. :D Thanks for pointing that out ^_^_

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 **Chapter Three**

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Morning light broke across the lonely road. Two horses where hobbled nearby stationary vehicles. In a grassy meadow, screams broke the serene crisp air.

"This is your fault!" Ron swung a punch.

Harry took it, feeling the force behind it. Ron meant the power behind it, and the words he levelled along with the swing. Landing on his back Harry stared up at the clear blue sky. He could not feel the pain. Everything was numb. Ron's voice was a distant echo just barely reaching him, but he got the general vibe.

Ginny was dead, because he had not saved her.

It was his fault.

Just like Neville.

"Ronald!" Fred wrenched his brother back, decking him hard. Hard enough that he landed roughly on his own back beside Harry. "For _Morgana's_ sake, it's no one's fault." Fred heaved a shuttering sob before composing himself. "I am _so_ … _so_ …sick of your childish behaviour, grow up. Our little sister is dead. Ronald, where you there? Where we there? When have you EVER been there!"

George joined them. His hand rested on his twin's shoulder and Fred sagged against him.

"This is the new reality we live in, Ron." George shook his head. "Harry does not carry your burdens for you."

Ron's bowed his head. "I…I…I should have gone back for her."

Harry winced. It was so fresh in his mind. The mad rush, the clambering of bodies, everyone madly gathering stuff and pouring out of the shack and his horrified realization that Ginny was not with him. Every inch of him had just boiled and froze at the same time. Why, why Ginny, why? Why would she be so foolish as to go back—

Because she had dropped her wand.

So simple. Any one of them would have done the same thing. He would have. Draco would have. Even Ron would have. It was an instinct to go back for their wand. The look in her eyes when he found her, it said everything—desperation—fear—hope.

The look in her eyes the moment before Sirius had apperated him away, it had said even more.

It had told him to go, to leave, just—please—leave.

That had been the most gut-wrenching thing he had ever seen, even more so than Neville spinning away into the abyss of the portkey's vortex. Ginny's look of utter acceptance. At least she did not hate him.

Harry curled into a ball as George knelt, hugging him and Fred gathered Ron into a tight embrace. They huddled in the wet grass, unable to cry, for tears felt void now, but their grief was conjoined. Harry slowly sagged against George. Feeling was gradually returning to his limbs. His magic uncoiling from its tight, wound up ball in his core, and as it released, the pain snaked through him. It felt as though he had split his skin, and his magic was leaking out like blood.

It had been for nothing though. Ginny was dead. Ginny—his phoenix.

She would not be coming back.

"I'm…I'm…I'm so sorry…"

George cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes. "Harry, listen to me, very carefully…none of us are your responsibility. If anything, you are our responsibility."

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"Will they be all right?" Lori settled down beside Sirius. He lifted his attention from the coffee he sipped, toward the four boys in the middle of the meadow, now curled around each other, hugging their anger and grief out. He nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Ron has a temper. He tends to take it out on Harry, and sadly, Harry let's people walk over him. Fred and George, they're good lads. They'll handle it."

"I'm sorry…" Lori paused, "About Ginny."

Sirius breathed out. His fingers trembled so he tightened his grip on the mug he held and sipped his coffee. The morning was so artfully beautiful. It betrayed the horrible twilight they had experienced. It felt as though it betrayed Ginny. They could not even bury her. He nodded weakly, smiling at Lori.

"Thanks. She will be missed. She was a ray of sunshine."

Across the meadow, Luna and Sam looked as though they were gathering flowers under the watchful eyes of Daryl. Sirius hummed into his mug. Ginny had been Luna's best friend. The girl would find this difficult—perhaps more difficult than the boys in some way. They still had each other. Luna was Luna, her magic was unique and Ginny had understood that.

Sirius shifted as Rick shuffled down beside him, holding his own coffee mug. He looked up, finding Hershel, Skye and Remus had gravitated his way. He checked for Glenn, noticing the young man was aloft the landrover, looking out across the meadows, gun in hand, face stern for such a youth.

Sirius sighed. Kids these days—

"So," Rick sighed, "we're going to need to find a safe place."

Sirius nodded. "Honestly though, where would that be?"

Skye rubbed the back of his neck. "We've been around this area for a while now, we haven't come across anything." He narrowed his lips. "But…" His eyes sought his wife across the meadow, causing his brow to furrow. "It was, a few months back now, that…we…lost our group."

"You had another group?" Rick looked up, suddenly curious. Sirius had to agree, it was always interesting to hear about other groups—and—what happened to them.

Skye winced. "Don't want to talk about it around Sam. She was there when it happened, saw the whole thing. I wasn't…so…I suppose I only got the aftermath. We're only alive because of my parents."

Sirius snorted into his mug. Yeah. Parents. The wonderful, adoring love of _parents_.

Skye chuckled. "If I'm half the man my father was, then you would have approved of my father, and my mother was a formidable woman. We had quite a group, we tried, you know…and for a while, we were doing really well. I was out scouting one night and when I came back." He fisted his hands. "I returned to our entire camp utterly desolated. We had military with us, with military weaponry. So maybe that was the problem. It attracted to much attention. It was gone. All of it…but that…wasn't…"

He looked away. "I found Sam in a hole. My mother had thrown her in there and covered it with boxes to protect her. I found my mother's body nearby. I found my father without a head. They took his head." Skye frowned. "They took his head. I just…I still cannot understand why they took his _head_. Why do you do that?"

"Why does anyone do anything these days?" Sirius griped.

"Only consolation is…" Skye rubbed thumb and finger against his eyes wearily. "I never found the bodies of my uncle and aunt, nor a couple of the others in our group. So, I live in hope, you know…that they got out, like us." He shrugged. "You have to live with hope, right?"

Remus settled a hand on Skye's shoulder. "Sam? She saw all this?"

"She heard it. Which was just as traumatizing, being unable to help my mother. Whoever they are they're lead by a man called the Governor. That's all Sam managed to catch."

"So, there are people out there willing to do such things." Sirius twisted his hand around his wand. "All the more reason to find a place to fortify. No offence, Rick, but your wife really needs a good place to give birth."

Hershel nodded in agreement. "Your boy, Draco, I take it he is studying to be…what your people…would consider a doctor?"

"Hmmm?" Sirius rubbed his bristled chin, "I suppose so. He's the closest we have to a medical wizard. It is a pity we don't have more books study gear for him. He and Harry have skills in in healing. Harry simply because his magical core is so strong, so he can adapt to most professions and Draco, well, it was due to necessity I suppose."

"Would you mind if I taught the boy a few things?" Hershel eased down on a nearby log. "I am not a young man any more. While I was only a veterinarian, there are a few things I could teach him."

"Muggle stuff?" Sirius frowned. "I am sure he would be curious to learn. If it helps save lives, he would like to know about it."

"These spells off yours," Rick pulled out his gun, settling it on his knee, "how good are they are killing…well…people?"

"People, not Biters?" Sirius glanced up at Remus. "Hmp, depends…"

Remus scraped a hand through his hair. "Wizards and Witches can be divided into three categories. Dark, Grey, Light. Depending on the intent behind the core magic, a spell can work in several different ways to different wizards and witches."

Hershel had pulled out a pen and paper. Remus chuckled at the elderly gentleman's curiosity.

"Do go on, my boy."

Remus motioned to himself and Sirius. "Sirius is from a very long line of Dark Wizards, though it has taken him quite a while to admit it."

Sirius pouted into his mug. Yes. It had taken him a long time to admit his family heritage. It had taken what had felt like a life-time in Azkaban and the realization he had been left there by the so called Lightest Wizard of them all, for him to embrace his family once more.

He never blamed Dumbledore for it but it had shifted his magic core dramatically and he was sure the old man knew, and continued to keep Harry from him for that reason.

Remus was finally addressing himself, and this was a moment of truth. Sirius tensed slightly.

"And as for myself, well, it is a full moon tomorrow night…" his best friends gaze lifted to the sky thoughtfully.

"Why is that relevant." Rick's own gaze shifted from Remus to the sky.

"You're kidding." Skye almost laughed. "Seriously." The young man poked Remus. "You're a werewolf.

Was it such a surprise the youngest of their little circle had figured it out first—kids theses days—Sirius rolled his eyes.

With a hesitant nod Remus spread his hands. "It is a condition I have had to live with since I was a child. The condition changes my magical core to that of a Dark Wizard."

Rick was gaping up at Remus in disbelief. Sirius clapped the man over the shoulder. "Don't worry, he's pretty harmless…I chain him up and keep him company in my grim form. Also, the Biters don't like him one bit. We're always granted one Biter free night a month. Total bonus!"

Hershel tapped his pen against his small book. "So you are both comfortable with killing then, I guess?"

"I wouldn't say comfortable, but we can, if we must." Remus shrugged.

"What about the children?"

"They know how to." Sirius sighed. "Luna, Harry and Hermione are all under Grey, though Luna would probably tip more toward Dark and Hermione more Light. Harry, again, due to his strong magical core can pretty much decide whatever. Draco is, like myself, from an old Dark family. Ron and the Twins are from an old Light family."

"Honestly, I would have pegged the twins for Grey," Skye mused.

Sirius smirked. "You would think it has to do with personality, but it honestly doesn't. Fred and George, while they would be highly likely to use Dark Arts despite being Light Wizards, the fact that their magical cores are light tuned means the spells will simply come out very differently than say…Draco's and myself."

"So…" Skye clicked his fingers, "what you're saying is, the method in which they'll kill will be different due to their affiliation with different spectrums of magic. Whatever this…magic…of yours is?"

"Yep." Sirius cracked a grin.

Remus held up a hand, lightly interjecting. It was always amusing that whenever Remus spoke, folk tended to listen. Must have been the teacher in him. "There were three forbidden spells, we called them the Unforgiveable Curses. The first is _Avada Kedavra_ , and please, if you ever hear any of us say it, and see a green bolt of light from our wands. Duck, get out of the road, just…hit the deck. It will kill you instantly." Remus studied the faces around him. "Tell the others too. It is the equivalent of our gun, only…there is no surviving it. All the children are given leave to use it. And that…that is saying something, considering it was _forbidden_ to use in our world."

Sirius stood. "The second is the Cruciatus Curse, the incantation is _crucio_ , and it is a torture curse. It will inflict excruciating pain on the recipient but it is a difficult spell to weld. It is highly likely that only Draco, Harry and Luna would be capable of it, as it requires immense emotions behind it. You must truly desire to inflict unbelievable pain purely for the sake of pain."

"Well, that's just delightful," Skye muttered. "Wonderful to know a bunch of wizards and witches lived around us without us knowing our entire lives with the ability to inflict such awful things on us."

"Oh, it get's better." Remus waggled his wand. "Want to know the last one?"

"Please, do tell." Rick raised an eyebrow. The cop in him must have been coming out, feeling just a bit threatened. This one, would get his panties in a knot if he ever saw it used, Sirius was positive.

"The Imperius Cruse, incantation is _Imperio_ , and it is unlikely any of the children would be able to cast this one. It's very advanced magic."

"Hmmm," Sirius waved his hand about, "Luna might."

Remus' titled his head to one side. "True, true, Luna possibly, but unlikely she _would_ unless driven to it."

"What does it do?" Hershel looked up from scribbling in his note book.

"It leaves the victim in a trance or a dreamlike state, allowing the caster to be in complete control over them. It's quite terrible, destroying the free-will of someone. You can resist it, if you have a strong enough will."

Sirius spread his hands. "So, my friends, those are our arsenal if we're in a very tight spot of bother. I hope you won't mind our…ah…rather unbecoming methods."

"Why is it that Luna keeps coming up?" Hershel raised his pen. Sirius had to hide his snort of laughter behind his hand. _Goddess_ , it actually felt like they were in a classroom.

Remus' gaze shifted over the grassy meadow, toward the young girl picking flowers alongside Sam and Daryl's shadow some distance away, watching the world in silent, wraith like presence. His old friend breathed in a deep, unsettled breath.

"Both Luna and Harry are what we'd refer to as druids."

"Like Merlin?" Rick looked like a dumb kid, just for a moment.

"Merlin would be the most famous I suppose." Remus nodded. "They don't have to wait to replenish their magical cores, while normal wizards and witches do. Luna is simply a lot more skilled than Harry, due to having been raised as a druid, while Harry's development has been stunted from his…well…" Remus nibbled his lips.

"Harry was abused growing up." Sirius shrugged. He saw no reason hiding it from the good folk around him. "He was placed with some rather nasty people who _hated_ our kind and they took it out on him. Needless to say, it's impacted his abilities quite a bit."

Hershel looked horrified and if anything, the cop in Rick came out swinging, asking for blood. Skye simply seemed to internalise the information.

"Will he be all right?" Rick's grip on his gun tightened.

"Sure, given time." Sirius shrugged. "It's not really like it's a huge priority anymore, you know, the worlds got a stick up its arse now. If he wants to chat about it, I figure he'll get around to it when he wants."

Rick nodded. "Just letting you know, Carl is likely to attach himself to your kids. It's been awhile since he's…"

Remus waved Rick off. "Don't worry about it, Rick, Draco and Harry will happily let him tag along."

Rick rose to his feet. "Thank you for sharing your knowledge with us, I know you truly did not have to."

"If we're going to work together," Remus opened his knapsack, "then we must trust each other and share openly. We don't want you to think we're holding things back. Protecting those we love is what is important now." He pulled out his map and the men gathered around him.

"I've been studying our possible directions, and this area right here, it has me curious." He pointed to a void in the map, with dotted spots around it. "Anyone know what it is?"

Rick's brow creased into thick lines as he rubbed his thick beard.

"That's a prison." The man suddenly grinned.

"A prison." Remus stated blandly.

Likely, Sirius knew, he was confused as to why Rick was suddenly so thrilled.

Remus started, "Well, I suppose that's not—"

"We should check it out." Rick slapped Sirius' shoulders.

Sirius gave a thumbs up. "I agree, if there is one thing I do know about prisons, they've got walls. Rick and I, we'll take the horses. Remus, you, Daryl and Glenn, keep an eye on everyone. If we're not back by tomorrow night, have Hermione chain you up to a tree."

"Thanks," Remus grumbled.

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Luna stood amongst the field of spring flowers.  
The earth magic was strong, rising up through her bare toes that sunk into the soft, spongy soil. The giggles of the wind looped her loose hair back and forth, tangling it around her shoulders and her ears. If she closed her eyes she could imagine she was back home, and Ginny was running through the meadows that connected their houses, shouting that she had found evidence of Nargles just for her.

"Oh, Ginny…" Luna whispered, "You never did call me Looney." A tear slipped down her cheek, cupping on her chin. Quickly she wiped it away. It would be terrible, indeed, if she did become infested with Wrackspurts.

Pine needles. She smelt pine needles approaching, and the powerful, almost overwhelming earth-magic of Daryl's foot-steps pressing into the soil. Luna opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight. His crossbow was loose over his shoulder. With grubby hands he settled a daisy chain around her neck.

It was infused with the most intricate earth-magic she had ever felt, a protective ward so strong, so powerful, it made her toes curl tightly. Tears threatened to escape again as her mind replayed the awful sight of Ginny and the blood and the Biters.

Daryl knelt, letting her fold against him.

"Sorry lass."

She shook her head against his shoulder. "Hmn, thank you," she whispered.

His nod was firm. Gathering up his crossbow he made his way back toward their main camp. Luna looked at the flowers she had gathered and turned toward Sam. She had bundled together a large bouquet as well.

"I think she'll like them," Luna murmured.

"I think so too." Sam offered a smile. "Come on. I think Lori, Carol and Harry are starting breakfast. The men must be finished their deep and meaningful manly discussion that they think only men do."

Luna giggled, taking Sam's free hand. Together they wove their way across the meadow, following Daryl's heavy boot prints.

Both car and van had been pulled off the road into the meadow, and with the use of a tarp, they had created some shade between both vehicles. Fred was atop the van with Glenn, both sitting on transfigured chairs, looking out over the area. Harry was crouched by the centre fire, his wand pouring flames into the gathered wood while Lori and Carol cooked a pot.

"What are we having?" Sam sat down beside her husband.

Harry glanced up. His eyes were still puffy. His magic still crackled painfully. Luna winced at it. He must have noticed, for his sent her an apologetic look. "Spaghetti, with some homemade damper. Still no cheese…" He pouted. "And…and…" Harry settled back on his heels, "In honor of Ginny, I've decided to make some chocolate pudding. She really loved chocolate pudding."

"Harry, that's lovely." Hermione clasped her hands tightly, briefly looking to Ron, who nodded weakly and gulped.

"Th…thanks…Harry." Ron managed to wheeze out.

If the bruising Harry was sprouting on his cheek was anything to go by, Luna had the feeling the two boy's had come to blows. That was hardly a surprise, Ron had grown up the last son in a family of mostly boys, he always ended up using his fists for some reason.

It was a good thing he was not like Draco and went for his wand and a cutting curse. Luna shuttered at that thought.

"I'll be using up the last of our chocolate though." Harry sorted through his bottomless bag, almost disappearing into it. His voice was muffled. "I still haven't figured out the right incantation to duplicate chocolate. How sad is that. Thought it would be first one I'd figure out." He made a soft, weak laugh as he reappeared with four slabs of chocolate.

"Wow. It's been…ages since I've seen chocolate." Carl sat down beside her and Luna noticed he had also gathered some flowers. Her heart swelled. Carl was so sweet.

"We found a…what was it called?" Ron piped up, turning to Hermione.

"A vending machine," she offered.

"Yeah, a _vending_ machine. It was full of lots of really nice stuff, but that was months ago. Guess that's the last of it, Harry?"

"Hmm, yeah." Harry had turned back to the breakfast, helping Carol add more tins of spaghetti to their big pot.

"I've got a question." Carl held up his hand. "Where does all your stuff go in your bag?"

Hermione laughed as Harry pulled a face. She answered for him. "We _think_ it goes to his vault in Gringotts, it's the Wizarding Bank. Which we _think_ means that some sort of stability remains, at least in regards to the magical creatures of the Wizarding World…but who knows. Of course, Harry could have just made a normal extendable bag, but I personally think he puts far too much stuff in there for it to be normal."

"When do I ever do anything normal, Hermione," Harry griped.

"True, true." She laughed.

Their small little ceremony for Ginny was a quiet affair. Words did not need to be said. At the nearby river, amongst the sunlight dancing through the leaves of arching trees, Luna and Sam released their flowers into the water and the group watched as the current took them slowly away. Carl stepped forward, throwing his own bouquet into the stream. He had not known Ginny long, but she had touched his life like the embers of a fire on a dry meadow. Ginny always left something of herself behind. That was just who she had been.

Hershel said a few sentences from his book and Harry thanked him before they silently all moved away, leaving Harry standing silent and alone by the edge of the water. Luna looked back at him. So alone, like a single reed, being bent by the wind, but not breaking no matter the strength of what was cast upon him. She worried terribly though. His shoulders were shaking, any moment now he would slump down, his limbs collapsing. Through the soil that connected them, she could feel the pain. It was not just the pain of losing Ginny, it was the pain of everything.

It was never knowing his parents.

It was the hatred and spite of his aunt.

The strikes of his uncle.

The jibes of his cousin.

The betrayal of Dumbledore, the students at Hogwarts, the constant strain of being someone he felt he never wanted to be.

Then suddenly a world dead, gone—

Should she—

Daryl touched her shoulder. He shared a look with her and she nodded, agreeing with him. Harry needed to be alone. Well—it was time to let him think he was alone.

She smiled. The thing was, even when alone, you never really where alone.

The world was full of so many truly wonderful, invisible, marvellous things.

Harry just could not see how loved he was yet. He would. Soon.

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With Sirius and Rick having gone off some time in the morning, Harry was not sure he wanted to head back to the camp. His magic was still volatile, his body still ached, and he wished, really wished he was more like Luna and had far more linkage to his druid heritage but being raised a muggle had set him back. Really. It had.

Hands deep in his pockets, not really going in any direction, he wandered the length of the river, following the flowers they had cast in for Ginny. His mind kept drifting back to Hogwarts, to happier days in the Great Hall and the smiles of classmates.

" _Mordred_!" The Biter's grip on his arm came out of nowhere. So did the arrow that whizzed past his cheek, burrowing into the fiends skull, knocking it back. The _thing_ slumped down as he stumbled away in horror.

That had been so—so—

He turned sharply in the direction the arrow had come. Daryl was walking silently toward him out of the forest. The man was quiet, as if his feet barely touched the ground. He had not even known he was nearby.

"Got a death wish, kid?"

"What's it to you if I do?" he snapped.

"Try smoking. It'll kill yeh slower." Daryl yanked his arrow clean from the Biter's skull.

"Tah, Daryl, don't give him a hard time." Skye called out. Harry twisted around. What was this? He thought he had been wallowing in his grief alone, was he in the middle of bloody London!

"Just saying." Daryl shrugged. He was clapped roughly over the head. "Buck up, little bitch."

Harry winced.

Daryl swung his crossbow over his back, trudging off. Harry scrambled after him, making a right old racket. He stifled his embarrassment, wishing he could manage the same stealth as the hunter.

"Where are you going?"

"Hunting. Damn Walker had to come from somewhere, didn it?"

"But…but what about the camp."

"Ain't babysitting everyone all the time. Got enough guns around."

Skye's chuckle came from somewhere. Harry spun on his heels. Where was the man?

"Skye?"

"Yep?"

"Where are you?"

"Look up."

Dangling from a tree branch the martial artist hung by his legs. He waved before giving a swing, summersaulting and landing in a crouch. His head was given another smart clap, almost knocking his glasses off.  
"Come on." Skye motioned. His long strides were hard to keep with but Harry rushed after him.

"What about Sam?"

"She's fine." Skye fiddled with a long knife playfully as they trailed after Daryl. "I highly doubt that Maggie and Glenn will let her go two feet away from them now that I let the little fact of her pregnancy slip."

Harry pouted. "That's mean."

"Just a bit." Skye grinned boyishly. "But it's nice too, having people who care enough to bother."

Daryl had slowed up ahead of them, shifting behind a large tree. Skye's hand came to his shoulder and Harry felt the man direct him carefully toward the hunter, joining him in a crouch behind rows of bushes. Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

It was a camp. Well. What remained of a camp, with a tent, and a fire, and some back-packs.

Harry covered his mouth, holding back his alarm at the sight of the Biters, munching on the three bodies sprawled out. Daryl had been right—the Biter that had attacked him had come from somewhere after all.

The two men crouched beside him where seizing the situation up, and Harry flicked out his wand, wanting nothing more than to show he too was up to the game.

Daryl's hand signals seemed to make sense to Skye, who nodded in reply. Harry screwed up his face in annoyance, wishing he understood. Maybe someday, if he kept going along with them, he would learn. Skye placed a hand on his back as Daryl vanished into the bushes like a mist.

Lips pressed close to his ear, whispering, "As soon as Daryl's arrows distract them, start taking out as many as you can."

Harry breathed out the breath he held. Okay. He could do this.

The whizz-snap of an arrow threw him into action. His wand moved as though it was possessed and he fired in succession, reducto, blasting and smashing curses, along with freezing curses that allowed Skye's knife to smash skulls far easier when arms where not grabbing for him.

Soon they had eight Biters around their ankles, finished off.

Harry stood panting, wiping blood off his face. "Goddess, that felt good," he choked out. Was it supposed to? Was he not supposed to feel sick?

Skye gave his head a pat. "Sometimes you just have to blow off a little steam. Maybe next time, I should just teach you some jiu jitsu moves, heh?"

"Yeah, I'd…I'd…like that." Harry gripped his trembling wand hand.

Daryl emerged from his hiding spot, glancing around before snatching out his arrows from the bodies.

"We'll head back to camp, Daryl." Skye wiped his dagger on his pants.

"Luna wants some herbs," Daryl murmured. "I should find them for her."

"All right," Skye motioned to Harry, "meet you back in an hour or so. Come on Harry, we'll do a sweep of the other side on the way back."

He knew they were trying to make him feel included, or trying to distract him, or perhaps they were just being nice in some strange manly fashion that he did not understand, considering he had never really had role models to aspire to other than Sirius and Remus, who had coddled him for fear of seeing him crumble into a dozen pieces.

Jogging after Skye he piped up, "So…can you teach me how to use a knife too?"

"Though you wizard-y folk only use sticks?"

He thought of Ginny, how she had lost her wand. The panic in her eyes. He did not want to panic if ever he lost the only weapon he had ever known.

"I might lose it? What then?"

Skye's smirk told him he had just won points with the fighter. Yep. He was going to learn everything he could to survive this horrible new world.

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Luna stirred.

Voices broke through the darkness of sleep. She rolled around. The starry sky greeted her with the most beautiful array. It took her breath away. How wonderful it was to sleep outside, to see the splendour of their world, to be reminded that there was still beauty left. Her lips parted in a soft sigh.

The murmuring voices continued, nibbling at her ears.

Weakly she pushed herself upright, peering through the silver glow of the almost full moon. It was near bright enough to be a grey daytime. She shivered at the eerie wonder of it. Across the camp, a fire was set low amongst a ring of rocks. Shadows sat around it. The horses had been gilded.

Rick and Sirius had returned. Her heart fluttered.

Carefully she crawled out from under the blankets, making sure not to disturb Carl or Hermione, and slowly she crept her way across the cold, damp grass toward the figures around the fire.

Daryl, as always, was to first to notice her. His sigh was long, heavy and dare she say it—slightly perplexed.

"Moonshine, I told you to sleep tonight."

"I can't," she rubbed her bare feet. All eyes had fallen on her. Most of the adults where awake it seemed. She could smell the beer and the coffee, and Daryl's cigarettes. He waved at her and opened his thick poncho. Quickly she huddled into it, safe, warm. Earth magic coiled around her.

She felt the eyes of the group on them, and sensed Daryl's rising tension, his muscles coiling like springs.

"What you looking at?" Daryl sniped.

Carol twittered a laugh. "I'm hoping I'm not looking at a restraining order."

"Fuck off." He flicked the butt of his cigarette at her, only making her laugh all the more. "She's fourteen. What do you take me for? A dick?"

"Yeah, sometimes." Glenn snorted.

Luna poked her head out of the poncho, smiling as Daryl's arm snaked tightly around her.

He whispered in her ear, "Go to sleep, princess."

The conversation continued around her as she snuggled into his lap, warm under the thick poncho cast over her. Daryl's hand heavy against her side, protective, comforting, just like her father's had once been when she was a little girl, scared of the monsters under her bed. She stared into the flames licking at the wood in the fire.

"The prison is a viable option." Sirius kept tapping his wand on his knee. "From what we could see, it had space to expand into, a roof to put over our heads, and walls to keep the Walkers out."

"Only problem is." Rick spoke between mouthfuls of his late dinner. "It's already full of Walkers. We would have to clear it first."

"Could we do it?" Maggie hesitated slightly.

"I don't think it is a question of if, it is a matter of…we have to." Rick shook his head.

"But we're so low on ammo." The young woman worried her lips.

Sirius nodded. "I honestly think the hope of having a stable place to put our heads at night outweighs the risks."

Luna felt her eyelids grow heavier.

"I guess we're going to prison then." Skye joked lightly. "My parents would be so proud."

"Don't worry," Daryl must have thrown something at him, "I'll make sure tah introduce yeh to all the pretty boys."

"Oh, you wound me my friend, I thought we were going to be lovers forever!"

"I can't leave you both for a minute, can I," Sam whacked them both over the head, "you start sprouting this sort of stuff in front of innocent ears."

"Yes, Luna is still awake Daryl," Carol chided.

"I was talking about Sirius." Sam jutted a thumb at the man sipping on his coffee.

"Hey, what? Hey!" Sirius sulked at the round of laughter.

Luna rolled around, slipping further into a comfortable, half-sleep state. Tomorrow would bring scary, frightening things, she was sure—but the sound of laughter was like a lullaby, and Daryl's heavy, cigarette damaged breathing lulled away all fears. She curled her fingers into his rough, scarred hand, accepting the swell of sleep.

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Hermione grumbled under her breath as she tried, for the umpteenth time, to bundle up her mad, untamed, fuzz-fest of hair. Her arms were growing tried from just trying to tame the beast that was aloft her skull. Ron was no help. Alas, living with his brothers and one sister had not raised him for the terrors of helping a girl-friend with bad hair days, made worse with never, ever—EVER—seeming to shower.

So—icky.

Hermione shook the thought from her mind.

Ginny had been helpful most mornings. Hermione's lips parted. Her arms sunk to her side. How awful of her, to miss Ginny just because she had helped with her hair. She shook that thought from her mind as well. Stupid, stupid brain.

"Need some help?"

Hermione cocked her head about, surprised at the intrusion to her morning routine. Usually Ron, Harry and Draco knew well enough to keep far away from her in the mornings. She could be a right terror and bite their heads off in a bit of a temper.

It was one of Rick's group, or she supposed, she really should have been calling them part of their group now, it seemed rather set in stone that they would be travelling and living together as one party for the foreseeable future. Sirius and Rick got along particularly well. They had an endearing sense of justice that ticked each other's boxes.

She should have known the man's name. She remembered everything. Theo…Theodore, oh, no wait, he had insisted on being called T-Dog. He wore a baggy, worn cap over his bald head, and baggy jeans that had been cut around his ankles to match what should have been a rapper look, once upon a time.

Hermione smiled. "You often ask to help girls do their hair?"

"I had three little sisters, yeh know, before all this." He crouched down beside her. "I got real good at braiding their hair."

Her heart swelled as she ran her fingers through her tight fuzz. She had not had braided hair for so long, not without her mother around to do it for her. "You think you could do it for me?" she whispered.

"Sure. I know I don't look it, but I used to have a sick afro once."

She sat back on her heels, relaxing against the ground as she felt him shuffle up behind her.

"Thought your magic would be able to do this for you?"

She resisted shaking her head, feeling him apply himself to the work he offered to do. "While magic is quite useful in some cases, like a quick _Scourgify_ to clean yourself, or the _Tergeo_ to your clothes it eventually becomes redundant. Fabric builds up resistant to the same spell if not washed, and so do does our body. Perhaps if I had paid more attention to all the girl-y magazines my friends had read at school I might have known something useful for my hair but…" She laughed. "It was never really my thing."

"One of my sisters was a bit like that." T-Dog agreed. "Wouldn't worry too much, right, I mean, what good have fashion magazines done now?"

"True." Hermione grinned. She smoothed her hands over the dirty jeans. Lavender Brown would be horrified at the sight of her for sure.

"So what do you think about this prison break in?" T-Dog paused for a moment, letting her feel the result of his work, approve of it with a nod, and allowing him to resume. He was gradually creating a rather nice, tight pattern across her skull, leaving a fuzz-ball down around her neck. She had a feeling it was going to be the loveliest hair style she had ever sprouted.

"I guess I won't truly be able to make a full assessment of the situation until I see the prison for myself, but I trust Sirius and Rick. If they think we can do it, then we can. If they think it's a good idea, then it is."

The sigh he made came as a surprise. "Rick's been good for us."

Once more, she had to resist the urge to turn around. By the tone of his voice, she was left wondering if she truly meant the words he said.

"How long have you known Rick?"

"Since the beginning…oh well…since Atlanta, when he joined us. That was sort of, our beginning. The start of our family. We lost some, gained some."

She narrowed her lips. "That seems to be the way."

"Yeah." His hands fell onto her shoulders, giving a firm pat. "All done."

Hermione burst with excitement, scrambling for her toiletry bag, finding the small mirror she kept within. Lucky for her, her dark complexion hid a lot of the dirt that gathered up from adventuring, unlike Ron, who's pale skin got so grotty he looked like a to old sponge.

"Thank you," she gushed at the sight of herself in the tiny mirror. It was perfect, nope, it was better than perfect. It made her look like a princess and a warrior all at once. She had never felt so beautiful and she was not even wearing a formal dress. How magical! "Not even my mother could do something so lovely. I inherited my father's hair and she honestly did not know what to do with it." She giggled at the heart warming reminder of her mother. "She didn't know what to do with her own hair half the time."

T-Dog rubbed at his eyes. He removed his cap, running a hand over his head, before managing a weak grin. His thoughts must have been on his sisters. It would have been cruel to ask how he lost them—it was just enough to know she could bring back fond memories with just simpleness of a hair-style.

"You're welcome." He eased himself onto his feet. "Glad I could help, yeh know."

Seizing her back of toiletries up, Hermione jogged after him, back toward the camp and the sight of it being gradually packed back into the landrover and the van.

"We all help each other now." She seized his hand. "No one gets left behind, Theodore."

"T-Dog."

"Nope, I refuse. Theodore is such a wonderful name!"

He groaned. "This is like that thing with you calling Remus _Professor_ ain't it?"

"Yep." She laughed. Reminding people who they truly where inside was a good pastime of hers. Theodore T-Dog would be her next great experiment.

Reaching the camp, Hermione threw her bag in with her backpack. Harry was helping Luna with her potions equipment. It looked as though Daryl had been fruitful in his promise to bring her back a range of ingredients. Hermione felt an odd release of tension in her shoulders she had not known was there. Harry was looking somewhat better than the day before. His swollen, bruised cheek from Ron's mighty swing had gone down a little, and the spark of his bright eyes had returned to its lustre. He greeted her with his trademark, coy smile.

"You look different this morning…"

She spun around. "Notice anything?"

His brow creased. Harry pouted. Oh. Honestly. Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry could have one of Luna's crazy Heliopaths in front of him and he would not know!

"Lovely hair, Hermione, you finally look half respectable." Draco passed by, bearing a box of supplies.

Hermione flashed a stinging hex at his buttocks. He winced, glaring back at her.

"You'll have to do better than that."

"Oh, I will, someday," she dared.

Draco sniffed. "Sure." He vanished around the side of the van, yelling at Sam and Skye.

Harry was by her side, looking apologetic. "You look lovely."

"Thank's Harry. What do you need me to do?"

"Um, well, I think Lori could use some help with the blankets."

Then that was where she would start. Everyone pulled together, they were family. She was sure of it. Not through blood, not even through magic anymore, but through the horrifying events of a world gone wrong.

They had become the most important people to each other.

Family.

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"Dad…please." Carl inched closer to Harry and Draco. "Daryl and Skye are with us. Please."

"Hey, hey, don't forget us." Sam jutted a finger at herself and Carol. "Sheesh."

"And me," Luna piped.

Sam wrapped the girl in a hug. "Of course, darling, you're our van's mascot. You're practically a hippy."

Harry felt Rick seize them up, his frown growing ever more like a raging storm brewing behind some mountains. Carl looked so dejected behind his thick rimmed hat. He wanted so much his father's approval, but on the other hand, he wanted desperately to be out, on his own, doing things out from under his father's nose.

Skye rested a hand on Carl's head. "We'll keep an eye on him, Rick, don't you worry."

The little glaring war between father and son seemed to be broken. Harry breathed out. So intense.

"All right," Rick sagged. "But I want you to stick close to Draco, or one of the adults."

"Why not Harry?" Carl frowned.

"I can't apperate…er…very well." Harry shrugged. "Stick with me, you're as screwed as I am."

Skye started laughing suddenly. Sam slapped a hand over her face, saying something in Japanese, causing her husband only to laugh all the more.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Is it something I said?"

"They're being childish." Carol motioned them toward the van. "Ignore their immaturity."

It took Daryl whacking Skye roughly over the head to calm him down so he could clamber into the front seat to start the van. Sam was fending off his hand, that kept trailing to her thigh across their front seat. Harry smiled to himself. At least the two of them still had fresh, unashamed devotion to each other. He had only grown up knowing the bitterness between his Aunt and Uncle. They had not been the best of role models for a truly loving relationship, and it was interesting to find himself surrounded by terribly dysfunctional people, but all more accepting and full of love than any he had ever known.

Carol, Daryl and Luna piled into the back of the van, leaving him, Draco and Carl to the middle. Carl sat between him and Draco, bubbling with excitement at finally being away from both his parents.

Daryl tapped Harry's shoulder gently. Harry glanced back at the man.

"Keep your wand near."

He knew what the hunter meant. He was to keep an alert eye out for anything, and to take action the moment he thought danger was approaching. Daryl and Skye and pulled him and Draco aside earlier that morning, and in low voices, they mentioned their concerns about— _other people_.

Not Biters.

Just.

Other _normal_ people.

He still shuttered at the look that had passed Skye's face when he had told of Sam's experience, and the annihilation of their entire group. How could anyone—anyone—do that to other Humans?

He sighed. The new world they lived in, he supposed. Was it any further away from Voldemort and his Death Eaters killing his parents and Muggles? Probably not.

An hour into the drive, Carol handed out some bars. Such a mother, making sure they were fed, had water, and kept warm. Yet, despite all the tenderness and sweetness of her touches, her eyes were sharp. She knew so well not to trust the world—maybe she had even known not to trust it before the pandemic, just like he had known it had been cruel and unfair even before everything had turned upside down.

The landrover was still some distance ahead of them. Harry wondered when they would catch up with the Twins on horseback. How he longed for a good broom. Someday, when all the cars no longer worked, would brooms be all they had? Could the muggles fly them—he would need to work on some way to figure that out. He jotted the thought down in his notebook.

"You guys fly on broomsticks. No way," Carl burst out.

Harry slapped his little notebook shut in alarm. He had forgotten about Carl's curiosity.

Smiling Harry nodded. "Yep. Wizards and Witches fly on brooms."

"Like all those pictures and stories…so awesome."

Sam peered over from the front seat. "Haven't seen you guys doing any flying."

Draco sighed. "That's because we haven't got any brooms with us. We were in a bit of a rush when we left England. None of us thought out bringing a broom."

"Which is a bit odd," Harry mused, "considering all of us boy's played for the House Teams. You would think one of us would have thought of it."

Draco shrugged. "We thought we were heading to Hogwarts, not the other side of the planet."

"Yeah, I suppose so." Harry pouted. That was true. They had landed in America unprepared for the end of the world. Thank _Morgan Le Fay_ Professor Lupin and Sirius had taken the same portkey with them.

"Can't you…hmmm…what was the word you used," Carol tapped the middle seat thoughtfully, "transfigure a broom?"

Harry shook his head, turning around to face her. "Brooms have complicated charms and spells on them that make them work to a Wizard or Witches magical core. Perhaps if I knew what those charms and spells where I would be able to transfigure one…if I was Professor McGonagall…but I'm just managing the transfiguration that I do at the moment. I'm having to come up with new, un-orthodox ways of doing magic. We were only in our fifth year at school."

Carol gave his hand a gently pat of assurance. It warmed his cold fingers at her motherly gesture. "You are doing wonderful, Harry. I am sure your teachers would be immensely proud of both of you."

Even Draco's chest looked as though it swelled a bit at the praise.

"So grabbing an average broom and flying it would be out of the question?" Daryl inquired.

Draco huffed back in his seat. He was still sore about that, Harry smirked inwardly. Poor Draco, he hated the fact that his grand idea had not worked. "We tried that. One of the first things Harry and I did when we found some on a scavenger hunt. Stupid."

Daryl's thoughtful nod was intriguing. Harry watched the hunter as he rubbed his stubbled chin, his other arm was loosely wound around Luna while she sat, knitting—of all the things—in his lap because the space between Daryl and Carol was taken up with supplies. There was something about Daryl, something he could not place his magical core on, but obviously Luna had. She had to have figured it out to have gravitated to him so suddenly.

He was positive that the moment he realized, the moment his magical core figured it out, he too would be unable to resist the instant bond but just—what—what was it?

Damn—why wasn't he Hermione who could remember everything he had ever read!

Daryl leant forward again, startling him by tapping the back of his chair.

"Draw me some pictures of your brooms, as detailed as you can make them. List off what they're made of, or at least what you think they're made of. Your kind had to make them yourselves somehow, long before you mass-produced them, right?"

Draco's eyebrows vanished under his hairline. "He's right, Harry, it's like we've gone back in time. To Merlin's era. We're the new…"

"…start of the Magical World." Harry breathed out the end of his friend's sentence. _Goddess_. This felt—

"Oh! We're here!" Sam called out suddenly. The van chugged to a slow, wheezing halt. Harry tensed. This was it. Rick and Sirius' great _bloody_ idea.

He and Draco heaved open the side doors of the van and leapt out. Carl checked his gun before quickly sweeping the area alongside Skye. The small river they had camped nearby, which they had all decided to remain _Ginny's River_ since there was no name for it on Remus' map, met up with them once again on the edge of the forest that rimmed the prison.

Harry stared out across the long meadow, toward the high wired fences caging in at least two hundred Biters in a courtyard. They ambled about, not bothering each other, but looking so frightening in their number.

The landrover pulled up, with the Twins on their transfigured horses trailing behind. Rick leapt out from the driver's seat.

"There's a lot of them, Rick." Daryl strolled past.

"We can take them." Rick waved away the protest.

Daryl made a face at the blatant disregard. Harry frowned beside him as Rick faced the prison, seizing up their approaching doom. The man was brimming with adrenalin, but that was not the issue. He looked, and felt, like Sirius after a bad round of nightmares. He wanted, he needed, he was craving the rush, the thrill, the fight and under it all—driving it—was the gnawing worry of those he protected, eating him up inside.

"We'll sleep with a roof over our heads tonight." Rick firmly nodded. "We'll sleep safe!"

"I agree." Sirius clapped his hands. Harry studied his godfather. How long would it take for him and Rick to clash. Their personalities were rather similar, or would their intense drive to protect their merged family keep them on the same narrow path. He sure hoped so, he did not want to be anywhere near them when they ended up in a fight.

Professor Lupin, Sirius, Rick, Daryl and Carol stood by the river, their discussion and debate in hushed tones but Harry gathered the general idea. Attack head on. Wonderful. He rolled his eyes as Professor Lupin handed down orders in a military fashion.

Harry swung away, resisting the urge to salute the werewolf. He was unlikely to find it funny in his current state, it was almost the full moon after all.

He approached Glenn and Maggie unloading the landrover.

"Got your orders." Harry chimed. "Sounds like we're going to war."

"We're just going to charge right in then?" Glenn slapped down their stash of weapons. "Nice." He threw a gun at his girlfriend. Beth was sorting through the box, she came out with a large knife and grinned at her father.

Hershel sighed heavily.

"Draco is really good with his cutting curses, Hershel," Harry offered, "if you want, you can ask him to stick by Beth."

"I think I might."

"Who are you guarding, Harry?" Maggie ruffled his hair playfully.

Harry smirked. "I would say you, but you can look after yourself."

She laughed. "Why thank you."

"I'm watching Lori, Carl and Sam. I have to get them to the first check point. I can't apperate yet, so if we can establish a safe zone for you guys to get to I'll be doing my job. Oie, T-Dog, Hermione wants you on her team."

"Sweet." T-Dog gave a thumbs up.

"Who is Skye with?" Glenn stood, arm wrapping around Maggie.

Harry motioned back toward Daryl, Luna and Carol. "Right, so, you and Maggie are joining Luna, Carol and Skye on the vanguard. Make sure nothing happens to Luna or Daryl might kill you."

"Check." Glenn frowned. "What is with those two anyway?"

"Daryl and Luna?" Harry shrugged. "Magical cores can create bonds, sort of like…hmmm…" he tapped his chin, "golden strings between people," he motioned between Glenn and Maggie. "If I look at both you through my…rather terrible aura reading skills, I'm hardly as good as Luna, but I can if I try hard enough. You both have a string between your aura's because you've bound yourselves to each other in marriage."

"We're not married." Maggie protested.

"You have sex, you love each other, earth magic doesn't care for worldly concepts like Human ceremonies." Harry laughed at the faces they pulled.

"You're blunt." Maggie smirked. "Love it."

Harry studied the earth. It clung to his boots, thick, still gluggy, waiting for summer to dry it out. Earth—the fuel of their magical cores. He still did not quite understand truly what it was linked Wizards and Witches to the earth, but someday he hoped he would figure it out.

He sucked in a deep breath. "I have a feeling Daryl's a druid, and that's why Luna's responded to him, because she's also one."

"A what?" Glenn spluttered.

"A druid. A very unique sort of wizard, able to tap into old earth magic much easier than modern Wizards and Witches." Harry shrugged. "I'd also…technically be one, since I come from the Potter ancestry, but…my magical core hasn't made a linkage with Daryl yet." He scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"Why not?" Glenn leant back on the landrover.

It had been troubling Harry. Ever since he had worked out the connection. He rubbed his chest, the place he liked to imagine his magical core was situated.

"I…I…I'm really not sure," he ducked his head, "but…it might…it could have something to do with…well…what happened to be when I was little."

Maggie wrapped him in a sudden hug. "Honey, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

The warmth of her sudden attention was both comforting and alarming. Harry melted into her embrace.

"It's nothing really, I just, didn't get along with the people who were supposed to love me. That's all. I think it impacted how my magic…well…makes connections."

Maggie kissed his forehead. "Well, we're here now, Harry. That's what matters."

He nodded weakly. "Thanks."

On slightly unsteady feet he returned to the van, where Draco was sorting out his medical kit. His wand was tucked behind an ear, and his face was set in an annoyed, boyish scowl.

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm, oh, nothing much, just all that stuff we collected from the old-folks home the other day…making sure they're in proper places. We've no idea what's going to happen in the next few hours."

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry repressed a shiver. Someone could be dead soon.

Draco eyed him. "You going to be all right."

His brief nod must have been reassuring enough for his friend. Draco swung his medical kit over his shoulder. With a heave he slammed the door of the van shut.

"What are we going to do about the cars?" Harry spread his arms. "We can't just leave them and all our gear here. And there is no way we're going to clear all those Biters in one day from the main courtyard."

"My godson's got a point," Sirius griped, looking toward Rick. "No way you folk have enough ammo, and as much as I enjoy running around slicing Biters heads off, I'd rather do it in small chunks. My magical core is going to be stressed enough as it is, and I have to babysit a werewolf tonight."

Remus growled low. Sirius looked toward him. "What? It's true, don't growl at me."

Draco scratched the back of his neck. "It might be possible that once we get to the other side, Professor Lupin, Hermione and myself could apperate back here and side-along teleport the cars into the courtyard. That means we wouldn't have to clear all of the Biters out of that meadow area. Just enough to get through."

Rick was nodding along with Draco's words, though Harry doubted the man understood much of what was being said, he must have got enough to agree.

Professor Lupin winced. "I won't be much help in that, I'm afraid. Tonight is the full moon. I wouldn't want to risk being part of a Rune Circle."

"Ah." Draco frowned. "Damn."

"We'll do it." The Twins held up their hands. "Bill taught us enough about Runes to get the general idea of teleporting stuff. Half our pranks at school had to use it."

"Draco," Harry shuffled worriedly. "That's a lot of metal to move. You'll weaken your cores even more after all the fighting. You won't be able to do magic for a while."

Rick raised his hand. "What's wrong with metal?"

"Metal blocks magic." Hermione pulled out her wand. "Wood is a conductor of magic, so is stone, but metal is earth that has been processed. It has been theorized that due to that, it has a sort of…coating on it, that makes it difficult for us to manipulate."

Tapping his foot on the ground Rick looked worriedly toward the prison. "Will you be fine living in there?"

"We'll be fine." Draco puffed out his chest. "Our magic still works around metal, it just doesn't…how would say…stick to it? We'll have more trouble warding the prison, but like the Twins said, Runes will work much better than spells. Runes are old earth magic, a lot of our people forgot about the old earth ways due to more…easier methods. It may be that we'll just have to go back to our roots."

"I should come with you." Harry stepped forward. "My magical core doesn't have a limit. You wouldn't have to worry about the metal draining you then. You could use me as the conduit."

" _Shit_ Harry," Fred scoffed, "when are you going to learn we don't want to cause you pain."

"Stop being so self-sacrificing." George frowned. "You need to look after yourself too."

"If we include more people in the Rune Circle we'll weaken more cores." Hermione shook her head. "We'll need you, Ron and Luna at maximum capacity encase we need backup over the next few days while we recover. Harry, we'll be fine, this is good learning for us."

Harry huffed. "Fine. But you know this is all speculating. First we actually have to get through that," he jutted a finger at the prison. Every eye followed his movement and silence followed. Rick checked his gun, placing a hand on Carl's head.

"We'll be fine."

No matter how many times the ex-cop said it, Harry could not find himself believing it.

Maybe Rick said it, because he himself did not believe it, and needed to keep repeating it to live in the eternal hope that someday, they would be fine.

Everyone gathered together, a large group, guns, wands and melee weapons at the ready.

Harry breathed out, steadying in his nerves.


	4. Chapter 4

_26/07/2017_

 _Small tweaks. Nothing much though.  
Huge thanks for reading. ^_^ Really appreciate it. _

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 **Chapter Four**

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The rough, chesty, painful coughing caused Neville to wince every time it came from Andrea. In the small corner of the hardware store, she sat bundled up in as many blankets as he had been able to find, shivering in her fever. He narrowed his lips, returning his attention to the potion he was brewing in a cast iron pot, raised above the flames of a small camping stove.

As awful as he had been at potions in school, most of it had been due to his terror of Professor Snape, and not from his incompetency at the subject itself. As a Longbottom, he had been raised knowing so much about plants and their wonderful uses in potions, his grandmother had made sure he read as many books on the subject of herbology and its crossover subject of potions just encase his magic had never blossomed.

The thought of his grandmother left a lingering hole within, but no longer was it painful. He could smile at the memory of her. Never would he ever thought that he would have missed the old woman and her stupid, ridiculous hat, but he did, despite all her faults, she had been the woman who had raised him and in her own, strange way, she had loved him.

Often at night, staring up into the starry sky, he wondered if she would have been proud of the young man he had become.

So much he had learnt about himself, and his Gryffindor courage, since he had been flung away into the vortex of the Portkey. Whatever would Professor Snape think of him now, if that old bat could see him. He chuckled as he stirred his potion a few times, letting the bubbles on the surface of the thick liquid settle.

Would he even be recognisable as Neville Longbottom, butt of all the Hogwarts jokes? Due to the serious lack of food, he had thinned down, and from the long, tedious hours of just walking, placing one foot before the other without true direction, his limbs had toned.

Andrea told him he looked a little bit more like a snobbish English lord now, whatever that was supposed to mean. She had laughed, saying his nose was long, his cheeks high and his chin pointy. So—what—he looked like Draco Malfoy? What a bone chilling thought.

Neville shook off a shiver.

Something dropped from a shelf.

Neville snatched his loaded gun. His finger hovered over the trigger as he stared at the open doorway into the back of the shop. Shadows shifted back and forth in the murkiness of the filtered sunlight. Gradually he lifted onto his feet, stepping over his work station. He inched out of the door.

The sunlight streamed through large windows, dancing with the dust in the air. Shadows flickered again. On swift toes Neville followed the shadow, coming out behind shelving.

He jerked to a halt as the glint of a steel blade against his throat stole the air from his lungs.

" _Merlin_!" He reared back on his heels. "Michonne, don't…do that."

Michonne's blade loosely dropped away. Even in the bright sunlight, she was like a wraith, the dust frightened away from her as she moved through the sunbeams in a swift slink. He had become accustomed to the bleakness that constantly surrounded her, as if a dementor had sapped all happiness out of the very air she walked through.

Neville lowered his gun. "You scared the crap out of me."

She shrugged. That was the extent of what he would get out of her. Neville shook his head, shoving his gun back into its battered hoister. Michonne finished with checking the ropes of the two pet Walkers they kept nearby. Neville rolled his taunt shoulders as he wandered through the shelves, into the back room again. He flung up his arms upon noticing his potion bubbling. No. Nope! No! Lunging over the work station he quickly stirred the pot, turning off the heat.

He sagged back like a wheat sack as its colour remained stable.

"Not ruined?' Michonne asked.

He tilted his head up, catching sight of her in the doorway.

She held a bag of supplies in her grasp, and set it down beside their gear. Her long katana glinted with blood. She had obviously been busy mowing down Walkers in the streets. What a lethal weapon she made, so much more incredible than any wand or gun. When she had found him he had been a terrified, blubbering mess but she had slowly crafted him into a man with careful prodding. He owed her his life. Of that he was damned sure.

Then they had found Andrea, just before the beginning of winter. Poor thing. Frightened. Lost. Stumbling about. She had been an utter emotional wreck. He was not surprised illness had taken root within her over the long, harsh winter, but it saddened him. She had fire in her, he just could not figure out how to make her see that she had a reason to live.

"Was everything all right out there?" Neville asked.

Michonne nodded. She motioned to his potion brewing again.

"Almost done." He took up a glass and carefully poured out the contents from his cast iron pot, admiring a colour Professor Snape would have envied. "Right. Let's see if this helps." He shuffled toward Andrea.

Michonne knelt beside her, placing a hand upon her shoulder. She squeezed it.

Andrea stirred from her fitful sleep. "He…hey…?" Andrea blinked, she looked to Michonne and smiled with cracked, painfully swollen lips. Michonne took up a damp cloth, dabbing at her cheeks.

Neville held out the potion. "Ready for this?"

"If you think it will help," Andrea murmured.

"It's not a cure, but it will get you on your feet." Neville wiped away her sweaty hair.

"Thanks." She accepted the glass in trembling hands. Carefully he helped her take slow sips. The _Pepper Up_ potion was all he could provide her. He had an inkling she had pneumonia, but without his wand, he could not perform any sort of diagnostic spells. His fingers still clammed up whenever he recalled his wand slipping from his hand in the craziness of the portkey's magical whirl-wind. He was just having to make do without it—a wizard without a wand.

It made him snort at the whole irony of the situation. He had lived his life terrified he would never be able to perform magic and here he was, without a wand, able to do more without his wand than he ever had been able to do with it.

At least his potions had improved. Luna would have been proud, and Harry—Harry would smile at him with that assuring, little smile of his that just sometimes slipped under his stoic mask.

Michonne settled Andrea back as she finished the potion. She curled her legs up, and like one of those beautiful panthers he had seen in old books, she rested beside Andrea like an ever present protector.

Neville returned to clear his work station, least the ghost of Professor Snape haunt him. He cringed at that thought. He washed his hands with bottled water, taking special care under his nails.

They would have to move on again soon. Despite Michonne's two tamed Walker's, their mouths and arms cut out, chained up, acting as repellents to their own kind, it was always dangerous to stick around a place for too long. His skin would start to crawl, just waiting for something or someone to lung out at them.

He shared a glance with Michonne. They had been together for—well—it must have been at least a year now. In that time her silence had become less confronting, he learnt to subtle ways she commutated without words, but with fleeting looks and small shifts of her lips and hands. He nodded in return to her unspoken gesture, finishing his packing of potion equipment.

Now was a good time to get as much rest as he could. He snuggled down under his own blanket, closing his eyes. Darkness did not consume him. The swirling colours of the vortex that had stolen him away from his friends—his family—and into the crazy world he now inhabited captured his dreams. He did not know if they were even alive, if they even existed in this world, if this world was even the same one he had come from.

For all he knew he could have landed in a parallel universe.

Neville rolled around.

Typical Longbottom luck.

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Come the next morning, the air was crisp and fresh, with a touch of warmth that echoed the beginning of slightly balmier weather. Neville shouldered his packs, studying the clear blue sky. He could not hide his smile for despite the ruined, desolate town, silent and forlorn, the sky was still blue. It had not changed, it was endless in its pristine beauty and he could trust it to always be there no matter where he walked.

They had no real direction, no true destination, and he rather enjoyed the aimless wandering. Sure, it was hard surviving on so very little, but there was something so precious about grasping hold of life in such desperate times. Coming to that settled peace that the life he had was a gift in of itself.

Some Walkers were ambling about the overgrown street of the small, country town, but apart from the undead, nothing else was disturbed. His fingers lingered on the small hatchet hanging by his side. How many weapons did he carry on himself now—his gun, his hatchet, a few knives just for backup, and some rather deadly potions he could quickly grab and throw at anyone who dared approach.

Oh yes. He meant business.

Neville rotated on his heels. Andrea, rugged up in a blanket, weakly walked out of the old hardware store with Michonne beside her for support.

"Which way?" Neville asked.

Michonne indicated with a tilt of her head and Neville took up the chains of their pet Walkers from her, leading the way through the deserted town. When Michonne had first found him he had been rather frightened of the Walkers that followed her about, but after many months he had become accustomed to their presence and how useful they were.

He had never inquired as to who they had once been to her—but he had an inkling they had been known to the silent warrior. She used them as Walker repellent, as it seemed by their company, the living could walk freely amongst other Walkers to some degree, though he was not tempted to try it too often.

His favourite part about them though, using them as pack mules. Thank goodness someone was around to carry their supplies. Even if it was the undead.

The day grew warmer, as he had expected it too, and sweat clung to his dirty arms as he removed his coat, tying it loosely around his waist. He gave his flat stomach a playful pat. Every day it was looking just that bit thinner. It was rather impossible to keep chucky in an apocalyptic world. Andrea had laughed at him once when he had remarked on it—what had he been expecting, she had gone on—they ate so few calories and did so much walking, he was bound to begin to see _some_ change. She had then ruffled his long hair fondly and kiss his cheek, telling him young boys started changing at his age anyway. She had then decided that it was time to give him what she called 'The Talk' and by _Merlin_ it had been the worse. He still flushed just thinking of it.

Michonne had just gazed in her silent, patient manner, not at all interjecting despite his pleading glare. She always let Andrea be the one who mothered him, but every so often she would offer a hug and it would be like one of Luna's heliopaths had burned through his skin. When Michonne offered her love, she offered it wholly.

"Neville," Michonne's soft voice broke through his reminiscing, "I think we should stop for lunch."

"I can keep going Michonne," Andrea protested.

Neville rolled his eyes at her persistence. The woman needed to stop pretending she was so strong, so independent. She had a whole winter of being near death, and still she had not learnt to let them look after her.

"If you keep pushing yourself, Andrea, you'll burn through the _Pepper Up_ I gave you." Neville swung his pack around. "Best to rest."

He heard the wheezing of her lungs in the heavily sigh she gave. "I wish we had one of those brooms in your stories."

He laughed. "So do I."

Just as he was opening his pack, searching for the water bottle, the loud thrumming filled the air. His blue sky was no longer safe.

"Helicopter," Neville snarled. "What the hell is one doing out here now?"

His skin crawled as his magic reacted violently. The experiences he'd had with helicopters had not been pleasant. Watching the military mow down innocent muggles with weaponry he had never imagined possible was scorched into his memory with clarity after nights and nights of replaying the images, promising to never forget their faces.

Michonne was on her feet, alerted gaze through the twisted branches of the trees.

"There." She pointed. He followed her line of sight.

Coming over the nearby ridge the muggle machine was dangerously low, billowing smoke from its engines. The helicopter veered treacherously, the noise of its failing mechanisms like a wailing child.

Neville ran, watching in horror as its engines burst into flames. It was hot enough, even from this distance, that the air pulsed with the explosion. He panted, unable to keep up with the downed machine, so instead, he trained his eyes on it, watching as it tumbled out of his precious blue sky into the tree-line yonder.

" _Merlins saggy balls_ ," he cussed. Turning he looked back toward Michonne and Andrea. "What do we do?"

"Follow it," Andrea offered. "See if there are survivors."

Michonne nodded in agreement.

He rushed back for their discarded packs and their pet Walkers before joining Michonne and Andrea. Keeping low they followed the billowing smoke in the distance. The muggle military had fascinated him when he had first landed in this foreign world and that had ended bitterly on his part. Now he understood why Hermione had been so insistent that despite how frightening Voldemort seemed to the Magical World, the Muggle weaponry was even more scary. He was sure someday some Wizard would come up with a way to create mass-weaponised potions that could kill hundreds, if not thousands of people in one go, rather like those he carried to throw at people who got to close.

But thus far the Magical World had not needed to even think about those sorts of things.

How had Muggles even—even—gone there? What insane madness had possessed them to come up with such—such—death machines?

He shook his head, feeling himself going into a spiral of thoughts. Helicopters still staggered him. How did they stay in the air, what powered them? _Merlin_. Michonne had attempted to get him to drive a car and it had been hilarious, fun and resulted in him almost killing them both. It had been the first time he heard her laugh as if she meant it. A very strange reaction to almost dying at his hands, that was for sure.

He hunkered down low in the shrubbery, hearing the approaching rumble of cars through the trees. Perhaps they were friends of people in the helicopter. He glanced back at Michonne for advice and she shook her head, motioning him to remain where he was in the bushes, just able to see the wreckage smouldering in a clearing. She wanted to assess the situation then, before they acted, and he could see the sense in her hesitation.

A large truck thundered up, chugging to a halt. Men leapt out of the back, bearing guns. By just the way they held the weapons, and swaggered about they oozed a menacing demeanour. Neville shucked in a sharp breath. He glanced toward their pet Walkers. They were stirring, sensing the new scents in the air. Michonne was carefully and slowly removing her katana. His fingers twitched against the release of his hatchet.

He watched with a sickening feeling in his gut as the group approached the wreckage. They pulled out an unconscious man, lying him down. Neville squinted. He did not have a clear view, but he was sure that one of the men stabbed the survivor roughly through the skull.

He heard Andrea gasp. Michonne smothered her with a hand.

Neville shuffled slowly back toward them.

Their pet Walkers were growing ever more agitated as the group of men began to fan out, searching the area. Michonne bit her lips. Her internal debate was brief, but he caught sight of her agonizing distress for the briefest of moments as she swung her blade in a swift movement. The heads of their pet Walkers dropped. The Walkers crumbled to the ground. Silence echoed around them. Neville settled. As much as he pictured himself a part of the foliage, wished to merge into the ground, he still could hear his own breathing, and it irritated him, it was too loud and obvious.

The men scavenged through the wreckage, carrying one limp body free. He could not see if the survivor was alive, but he must have been if they were bothering with him.

"We should go," he murmured.

Michonne nodded.

He tugged on Andrea's wrist. Her eye's where transfixed behind him. Neville snapped around. Earth magic surged through his feet—how had he not felt such old magic. He choked on his tongue at the sight coming through the trees.

"Well, well, well…what do we have here."

Neville tightened his grip on his hatchet, glaring at the man looming over them. Dressed in a blood and mud stained singlet, with grotty jeans, he smelt, and felt like a nasty piece of work despite the earth magic twisting around him. By Andrea's reaction, the tension in her body increasing tenfold, he knew he had to be right—he was cruel.

"Merle," Andrea choked.

"Howdy Andrea." The man waved the contraption that replaced his right hand. "Where's the whole gang?"

"I don't know," Andrea seethed.

Neville had to presume they knew each other, and it left a foul taste in his mouth. Did this mean—was he one of the people from her old group. No, that did not make any sense, she had talked about her old group so fondly, as if they had been her family, this man did not evoke any reaction of affection from Andrea what-so-ever.

Neville shared a worried glance with Michonne. She gave him a light shake of her head. His heart sunk, along with his Gryffindor macho tendencies. He knew what she was saying: there was nothing they could do. Surrounded by the enemy, they had guns, and a large area in which to gain traction to take them down—despite that, Andrea was still sick. Defeated, before he even drew a weapon. Even if he still had his wand, it would have been highly unlikely he could have taken on so many muggles with guns blazing.

Merle clicked his tongue lightly. "Oh, did they abandon you too Andrea?" He was playing with her and Neville held back the burning desire to smash his fist into the man's nose.

Andrea spat out, "No."

"Keep telling yehself that, luv," Merle's laugh was deep, from his belly. Neville would have called it jolly and boisterous if it had been from anyone else, from Merle it just sounded spiteful.

"Merle, friends of yours?" A charming, warm and jovial voice joined the conversation. Yet by the way Merle's stance shifted in slight submission, Neville was sure such a sickly sweet voice belonged to the man in charge.

He had enough of being on his knees. Harry would have been disgusted in him for staying so long bowed over like he was not a Wizarding Lord. He could almost hear his friend bellowing at him about the importance of upkeeping the Longbottom name, of showing respect to his ancestors, and it made him stand just a little taller as he raised onto his feet. He let Andrea use him as a crutch, facing the leader pushing through the bushes.

The charisma of the man just oozed off him, like a form of magic all of its own. Neville's stomach twisted into knots that threated to loosen up and out of his throat. Even if the man looked eerily handsome, in the same vain as a peacock thrilling out feathers—those feathers may as well have been poison darts. There was no hiding the disgusting persona behind the beaming grin. He had never been one who had learnt much in Deviation, all that stuff about auras and reading folk, it had been for Harry and Luna's type, but even a Squib would have seen the depravity that clung to the approaching man like thick goo.

"Oh, aye, Governor." Merle nodded, motioning to Andrea. "Well, one of them is."

"Ah, well, it is always good to meet friends of friends. I'm the Governor."

"Andrea. This is Neville, and Michonne."

"You don't look too well, Andrea. Merle, this is no way to treat friends. Woodbury has medical facilities; we'd be glad to offer our help. Our community is always welcoming to those who need aid."

"We're fine," Michonne murmured.

"No, Michonne," Andrea softly protested. "We should go. I'm just getting worse, you know that."

Michonne's brow crinkled. "Fine."

"Wonderful." The Governor waved a hand. It was like he was waving them to their graves.

Neville fingered his hatchet. The one eyed man looked to him, grinning a fake, blazon smile. His twinkling eye's put Professor Dumbledore to shame.

"Let's get everyone home, shall we."

A bag was roughly shoved over his head. Neville knew better than to protest.

 **Updated Cast List**

 ** _The Walking Dead Cast: (based on the TV show, not the comic books)_**

 _Rick Grimes_

 _Lori Grimes_

 _Carl Grimes_

 _Daryl Dixon_

 ** _(New) Merle Dixon_**

 _Carol Peletier_

 _Glenn Rhee_

 _Maggie Greene_

 _Hershel Greene_

 _Beth Greene_

 _Theodore 'T-Dog' Douglas_

 ** _(New) Andrea_**

 ** _(New) Michonne_**

 ** _(New) Governor_**

 ** _Harry Potter Cast:_**

 _Harry Potter_

 _Draco Malfoy_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _Ronald Weasley_

 _Fred and George Weasley_

 ** _Ginny Weasley (Deceased)_**

 _Luna Lovegood_

 _Sirius Black_

 _Remus Lupin_

 ** _(New) Neville Longbottom_**


	5. Chapter 5

_26/07/2017  
Small edit to a few little things._

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 **Chapter Five**

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 **Spells/Curses/Jinxs Used in Chapter:**

 _Flipendo Jinx_ – nocks an object backwards.

 _Alohomora Charm_ – unlocks/opens and object.

 _Reparo Charm_ – Repairs an object

The vice grip Harry had on Lori's wrist sweated in the sun's heat, making him tighten his hold ever firmer. The growing anticipation of their raid upon the prison was akin to crackling electricity building amongst them as they crept toward the fencing surrounding the outer courtyard. It was a grassy meadow, full of wild weeds, but Harry could see the attraction—it was space, behind the safety of fences.

Already he was picturing herb gardens for Draco and Luna's new potion lab, and if Daryl did ever achieve in crafting brooms, then they could even make a small Quidditch court. He was practically salivating at the very thought of what the space could mean to them if they did achieve in bringing the prison under their control.

Sirius sliced through the fence, pealing it back, and one by one, they slipped through into the clear straight between the two fences that outlined the prison. Harry caught Hermione's muttered _reparo_ , sealing the cut Sirius had made, sealing the fence behind them. She jogged past him, rejoining Draco and Ron.

Harry nibbled his lips. Lori and Sam's wary eyes kept tracing to the Biters within the outer courtyard. It was hard to tell just how many there were spread about, but the way the two women were fretfully acting, was making his muscle tense tighter. He was a coil reacting to their every movement. If Lori wasn't careful, he was going to bruise her wrist by the end of their little adventure.

Everyone halted as Rick and Sirius faced their first obstacle. A small gate leading into the doom of the outer courtyard. Harry bit down on his lips, ignoring the sarcastic background music playing in his mind.

Rick pointed his gun at the lock on the gate. Sirius stalled him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait. Let me. We could use these chains and locks later, best keep them. Hermione." Sirius motioned to her. She shuffled forward, shoes dragging on the white gravel. Her wand twirled in a flourish of complicated movements as she muttered _Alohomora_.

Harry held his breath.

Hermione was incredible with the unlocking charm. None of them had really bothered to learn it other than Hermione, something he rather regretted now, as it would have been partially handy when dealing with ordinary Muggle locks and not those layered in wards and trap-spells.

Sirius' rested a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Try again."

"It's modern metal, Sirius, the magic just bounces right off it."

"Try again, you're the smartest which of this age." Sirius crouched down to her level, placing hands firmly on her shoulders. "You can do this," he urged.

She breathed in deeply and nodded.

Harry closed his eyes, calming himself as he cast aside all other noise, focusing wholly upon the sound of Hermione's muttered charm. Gentle, like a butterfly's wings fluttering, the magic tickled the hairs on his arms as it bounced off the metal. His chest deflated, only for a sharp breath to inhale as he heard an echoing click.

"It worked." He opened his eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness. "Enough magic got through."

Rick lunged, snapping open the lock. His grin spoke volumes, and Harry had no doubt the man was dreaming big dreams of all the wonderful things he could do with just the unlocking charm alone. Harry shook his head, poor Hermione, she was going to be dragged around on supply runs forever now.

Rick tightened his grip on the handle of the gate. The man vibrated with adrenalin, a crazed glint in his eyes that Sirius' shared. Harry rubbed at the sweat building under the collar of his shirt. It was little wonder the two got along. They had both once been cops—albeit, Sirius' a magical police-man, but it was still technically the same thing.

And despite being gentlemen, they practically oozed wild, untamed mess behind their gazes.

Rick summed everything up with just a word. "Ready?"

This was it. Harry twisted his wand in his grasp. His heart wanted to burst from his rib cage. Getting through the first courtyard may very well be the easy part. Who was to know how many Biters where actually in the building itself.

"You all know what to do. Make for the main gate. Our goal is not to kill all the Walkers in the outer courtyard today, it is to get to safety. Let's go." Rick ripped the gate open and ran through.

Harry dragged Lori after him, keeping close eye on Sam and Carl. Soon they were ahead of the main group, running up the hillside. It was harder work than he had anticipated. The grass was thick around his ankles, and despite the spring heat, the soil was still damp and muddy, pulling on his boots. At least what slowed him down, also slowed the Biters.

Dragging a pregnant woman beside him and the sheer panic of keeping her and her baby alive kept a fierce fire burning under his skin, and it forced him forward, as though he had no will of his own. He could not, would not, let her and the child she carried die, every inch of him was compelled to do everything it could keep her safe.

Carl fired rounds through the Biters daring to approach them. The crack of the boy's gun kept echoing in Harry's skull, alerting him to wherever the boy's position was, allowing his blasting hexes to just miss him. They worked in unison, circling Lori and Sam until the main gate came into view.

Sam slammed herself against the wire fencing, rattling it. She cursed as the gate refused to give way. A Biter reared up and she shoved her machete into its skull, wrenching back.

"Fuck you. Harry, we've got a problem. The gate's locked! Can't you do the spell?"

Harry released Lori's hand. "Just a second." Back the way they had come was a littered mess of Biter bodies, and the main group was only half way across the meadow, swallowed by a swarm of Biters. Harry bit back a swell of fear. His feet wanted to take him running back down the outer courtyard, toward his friends, wand blazing. Lori's hand seized his hand.

Her wide, horrified eyes seemed to know his thoughts. He assured her with a smile.

With the main group to slow, they could not open the gate. Harry chewed his bottom lip. Biters from within the inner courtyard were heading their way. If they opened the main gate now, Sam, Carl and himself would never take them all on alone.

"We can't open it yet. We'll have to pick them off from this side. Carl, how much ammo do you have?"

Carl reloaded his gun. "Just another clip. What about you?"

Harry smiled despite himself, amused that Carl asked such a question, as if he was forgetting that his wand was not a gun. "I'll be fine."

They turned toward the gate and with furious determination they ripped into the Biters pressed against the fencing. Harry felt the cold, stale blood against his clothes and face, it was hard to ignore, but the intense drive to be free of the Biters, to clear the area, to just be safe, kept up the racing of his heart as he switched his wand for his knife, stabbing through the fence into necks and skulls until his hand and wrists ached.

Finally, the main group arrived and once more Hermione unlocked the gate. Like a wave, they charged in, the sound of gunfire and the light of spells drowned everything out. Harry kept a hold of Lori, dragging her toward the nearest safe spot he could see, throwing up a ward the moment he found a corner to tie it to. Carl and Sam joined them, both panting heavily, both covered in a layer of sweat.

"Stay here," Harry motioned. "Don't leave this circle."

"Harry!" Carl shouted.

"Stay!" He called back, before vanishing into the fray. He was never going to leave his friends to do all the fighting, never.

Biters lay dead everywhere, but a swarm of them where coming through a larger section, deeper into the prison.

Harry pointed his wand, shooting a spark into the air. "Rick! There are more!"

"Get that gate!" Rick bellowed. "Get that gate!"

T-Dog and Remus charged forward as Sirius and Draco fired off cutting curses, covering them both. They dragged the gate across the path of the oncoming Biters and Remus bolted it tightly. Everyone stepped away from the iron wiring that held the Biters back. The release of the tension was incredible. Everyone seemed to sag.

"Well." Sirius twirled his wand. "We did it. We made it!"

"Anyone hurt?" Draco called. No one answered him.

Harry bent over, clasping his knees. Thank the _Lady_. They were all alive. No one had died. His body began to tremble as the strain of his muscles was released and an ache grew up his legs. He desperately needed to sit down. Without hesitation, Harry slumped onto a wall and slid onto the concrete, studying his trembling, bloodied hands. With the adrenalin gone, he was suddenly incredibly cold as the slight breeze tickled the sweat coating his skin.

He cocked his head up as Rick and Sirius practically jigged in happiness. At least they were happy.

"Stage one, complete." Rick clapped Sirius on the shoulder firmly.

Harry turned as Lori, Carl and Sam made their way through the dead Biters. Lori held a hand to her mouth. He had to agree with her, it was not a pretty sight.

Carl ran to Rick. "Wow! That was amazing."

Rick placed a hand on his son's head, a faint smile touching his lips.

Beside him, Harry noticed Lori's hand squeeze together before rubbing on her belly. The painful shine in her eyes as she watched her husband and son interact had a lingering, wishful glint Harry had once felt twanging in his own heart. Once—long ago—he had watched his Aunt love Dudley and wished for the same love.

Why Lori was acting thus, he did not know, but Rick was a hard man to read.

"How much ammo do you have left?" Rick asked Carl.

"Ah…" Carl checked. "A few shots."

Rick sorted through his bag, offering a few more clips to his son.

Harry wiped his bloodied hands on his pants before cleaning both his knife and his wand. No use dropping either one of them because they were slippery. He noticed, oddly, that Luna was copying his action and she beamed at him. He was simply disturbed at the sight of her beautiful, pale hair, covered in blood.

It really just—did not match her—or—well—

Harry gulped as Luna tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

Maybe it did match her wildness in a strange way.

Daryl and Skye were picking through the dead Biters, one by one. Skye had couched beside a body, his lips narrowed. He waved at Daryl, who passed by Harry, briefly patting his head, like a badge of approval that made his heart swell even though Harry highly doubted the man meant it. He watched as both men conversed in a weird, silent conversation with their eyes. How they did it, he had no idea, maybe it was a sort of—grown-up hunter, manly thing. Whatever it was, he hoped he could do it someday. It was so freaking cool.

"Hey, Rick," Daryl barked, "some of these Walkers are civilians."

Rick marched toward Daryl and Skye. Even from where he sat, Harry saw the man's shoulder's bunch up. All the lightness that he'd had moments before were gone, he was once more tight and wound like an old clock.

"What does that mean?" Lori worried.

"It is possible there is a breach further in." Daryl studied the blocks of buildings surrounding them. "We're going to have to find it."

"Right now, let's clear one of the blocks out before we lose too much daylight," Rick assured. "At least we should be able to do that." Despite walking past Lori and Carl, Rick only gave his son a warm smile.

Harry lifted himself onto his aching feet one more, sucking saliva into his mouth and letting it wet the dryness down his throat. He shared a glance with Luna, her eyes were unmistakably full of sorrow whenever they looked between Rick, Lori and Carl and Harry wished he could see what she saw. All he knew was what he could read from their interactions, and that was the dying of love. Something terrible had pulled Rick and Lori apart when they should have come closer together.

He heaved a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. This was not his place. He was a kid, and this was adult business. Hobbling from one foot to the other, both feeling like they were covered in blisters, Harry stared around the prisons rising walls.

He had an awful feeling they were boxing themselves into a big metal cage. Still, one look at Professor Lupin, and he knew they were going to have to hurry to clear at least one of the cell blocks before the setting of the sun.

"Right, ladies and gents, new rules," Sirius called out. "Draco and the Twins, hands up so everyone can see you."

All three raised their hands, looking sheepish. "Everyone, take a good look at our apperation candidates." There was a small amount of laughter, which Harry thought was rather fitting, considering their situation. Sirius could always make people laugh, no matter the horrors faced. "These three, and myself, are the _only_ ones who can apperate around metal if they are under duress to do so. This means that in a life or death situation they will take you with them but it will be highly likely someone will end up wounded when they do it."

"Why?" Carol held up her hand.

"Apperation is like squeezing through a really small space," George began.

"The more people you take, the more stuff you have to squeeze through the space, and as stated before, metal, iron, processed materials," Fred added, he threw out his arms, motioning to the prison around them, "just doesn't work with our magic."

Taking up where his twin had left off, George shrugged. "There is a reason why we cut ourselves off from the modern world."

"What about Professor Lupin?" Draco asked.

Sirius waved in dismissal. "Yeah, I would have included him, but it's almost the full moon, don't confuse things Dragon."

Draco huffed. Harry dug an elbow into his friend's side, chuckling at him when he yelped.

"So, is that clear folks?" Sirius clapped his hands as murmurs came in reply. "Good. Good." He looked Rick and Daryl. "Where to now?"

Rick motioned to a doorway. "C-Block. I think."

"Always did love the letter C," Sirius chimed.

Harry slapped his head, groaning.

Beside him Carl giggled. "I really like your godfather."

"Thanks."

Cautiously Rick tried a door, finding it suspiciously open. One by one they entered into the darkness of the interior of the prison. Harry curled his tongue against the top of his mouth at the foul stench in the air. Undead bodies. So gross. Even after almost two years the smell still hung in the air, as if it had seeped itself into the very concreate walls. Not much light permeated through tiny windows, and it was terribly gloomy. Though he supposed it was a prison, it was not meant to be a happy place.

They move as a group, hugging tightly, and the very moment the Biter's where upon them, Harry watched as Daryl, Rick and Skye surged forward like knights, swinging their melee weapons, cracking skulls. He could barely keep track of everyone rushing past him as they continued down the corridors, turning this way and that, encountering Biters at almost every corner and every time, his heart raced thinking it was the end of someone.

He tried to keep track of the names on the doors and the signs on the corridors. His eyebrows lifted curiously as he spotted a sign to the administrator's office. Interesting. He bet that had all the keys for everything in there!

"Hey…guys…" Harry turned. His eyes widened in alarm

Oh. Shit.

No one—no one—where the hell had everyone gone?

Harry spun on his heels, searching the murky darkness. He swore under his breath. Great, fucking, damnable, _Merlin_ , _Morgana_!

He threw up his arms.

"Who knew you could get lost in a prison." Now what was he supposed to do. He leant against a wall, glaring hotly down at the floor, somewhat disgusted at himself. Draco was going to be furious at him. Sirius was going to lecture him. Hermione would yell—wait—Hermione. Harry tapped his foot thoughtfully, considering the possible things Hermione would do in this situation. Hermione would cast a tracking charm.

A noise startled him. He drew his wand, holding it out.

"Carl…D…Draco?"

A hand seized his shoulder. Something wet landed against his neck. Harry screamed, smashing his wand back as though it was a knife, right into the eye socket of a Biter, it staggered forward and he fell, the weight of the huge, bloated body pulling him down. He landed, cracking his head on the floor, his glasses flew off his face and he blinked, dazed at the pain.

Everything was suddenly horribly blurry, but it was the pain in his chest that he fought to hold back a cry from. The Biter was dead, but he could barely breath with it on top of him.

Darkness. Slowly it was creeping over him.

The floor started jolting.

No.

Please.

Not more Biters.

The gurgling and moaning shocked life back into his limbs and he wiggled, struggling to free a hand. Without his glasses, his aim was going to be inaccurate, and wandless magic was always volatile. Warmth gathered in his chest and like a vine, it crept down his chest, pooling at the tips of his fingers as though his arm was the wand itself. With a shout, he released the cutting curse through the corridor. The sound of limbs squelching as bodies collapsed caught his ears as hazy, enveloping darkness wrapped around him once more.

He was not sure how long it was, maybe minutes, maybe longer, but his name was being called. Faces swam around him.

Ginny. Neville. His parents.

"Harry!" Ron and T-Dog dragged the sagging, bleeding Biter off him. Harry stared at them through his blurry vision. Hermione suddenly shoved his glasses back onto his face.

"We've really got to figure out a spell to stick those things on you," she grumbled. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't think so." He winced. Well. Something was broken, perhaps a rib, but he was not going to mention it and make her worried. He clenched the fist of his right hand, it was still tingling from his use of wandless magic—forcing that much fuel through it might have damaged some nerves for a awhile, he wondered how long it was going to tingle this time.

T-Dog was looking around anxiously. "We're lost."

"Bloody _Merlin_."  
"Harry! _Language_!" Hermione gasped.

Harry scrambled around on the ground, searching through the gooey remains of the Biter. She did not understand! His wand. It was—it was—

His heart pounded out of his chest in a rising panic. "My wand. Where is my wand? Hermione, my wand—" He had shoved it into the Biter's head, but—why—why was it gone? Had it been flung away?

Suddenly T-Dog had hauled him up like he was a little boy, and they were running down the dark corridor at top speed. Ron was firing off curses over his shoulder, seeming to just hope they would hit the tumbling swarm of Biters heading toward them, all big, brawny men. Prison In-mates, Harry squished his eyes shut at the horror. Strong, undead prisoners. Just their luck.

He heard Hermione's scream. T-Dog practically launched him at a wall, causing sheering pain to jar through his chest. Harry crumbled up, coughing out blood. Oh. That was not good. Hermione was struggling against a Biter that had wrapped itself around her, her wand caught at her side, unable to make a movement to twirl her wand. Ron was frozen by an open doorway, unmoving, his legs shaking. Harry was sure he caught the faint sight of wetness in his friend's pants.

Harry threw out his right hand, twirling it, sending Ron flying back into the room. Pain shot up the limb and he grabbed at the arm, cursing under his breath. Swinging around he faced T-Dog, the man had ripped the Biter's from Hermione with his bare hands and Harry covered his mouth in horror. Bites covered the man's arms but he still moved, carrying Hermione in a mad dash into the side-room. Harry ducked in after him, slamming the shoot shut.

Ron joined him in heaving the nearest cabinet against the door and they leant upon it, sagging in relief.

Ron muttered, " _Lumos_."

Their world was lit in a swell of light from his friend's wand.

Harry staggered toward Hermione, sobbing beside T-Dog, collapsed upon the ground. Like a tap, blood was leaking out a bite from his neck. Hermione's hands trembled as she tried to hold the torn skin together. Kneeling beside her Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she sagged against him.

T-Dog smiled weakly, his eyes holding a strange clarity in them. He raised a hand, brushing it gently over Hermione's cheek, smearing blood.

"You've got beautiful hair, don't…don't forget that."

"I won't." Hermione choked. "Please, don't die."

"We all do." T-Dog stared at the ceiling. "At least, I'm going someplace…some place…better."

His chest gave a final, shuttering breath. Harry looked away. He hated it. It was so final. The end of a life. His magic could just feel—nothing. He slowly stood, his attention turning back to the blocked door and the rattling of the Biter's behind it. How those disgusting roamers knew they were inside just riled him up but smelling fresh meat meant they would not stop until they got in.

 _Merlin_. This was bad. What was he supposed to do?

Hermione hung over T-Dog's unmoving body, sobbing. Ron tried to touch her but she wrenched aside. "Don't!" She shouted. "Just…just don't!"

Harry urged him away, shaking his head. "Let her be," he whispered.

"But…but…" Ron looked confused.

The door scraped over the floor. Hands pried through the gap. Harry tensed, twisting his grip around his knife. Curse his slippery, bloodied fingers and losing his wand.

Ron was about as confident as a brick now that he'd had a fright.

"That isn't going to hold is it?" Ron squeaked.

The shelf they had propped up against the door rattled. Ron hugged his head, a whimper escaping him.

"Hermione." Harry twisted on his heels. He heaved her up under her arms, dragging her away from T-Dog. "I need you to focus! The door is going to give way any minute now. I do not have a wand. Listen to me." He smacked her against the wall, ignoring Ron's protesting. "I want you to cast a _patronus_ , and run with Ron. I'll draw the Biters away from you both. Get to C-Block."

"Harry, I can't let you do that—"

"It's better one of us, than three of us. I don't have a wand, Hermione, you both do, you have a better chance making it back. Cast a tracking charm on Draco." He had use logic on her, that was the only way to make her see reason.

The door buckled. Harry heard Ron curse. Like a torch blinking out, the _lumos_ of his wand died.


	6. Chapter 6

_It was pointed out to me, by a lovely reviewer – why couldn't Harry just summon is wand back? – this is a very good point! And I'd had a really great reason why Harry couldn't summon his wand back, like super awesome reason - but I totally forgot what it was. I have a feeling it was one of those 2AM thoughts that I brilliantly thought up and then rolled over and fell asleep and forgot about. LOL.  
However, I do address Harry's 'not-summoning-his-wand' in this chapter - it's not my brilliant idea, since I forgot it, so I've given up on that. XD  
Hopefully it clears things up._

 _Thanks lovely reviewer for your feedback!_

 _Onward!_

 _Enjoy the update dear readers!_

 _KL_

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 **Chapter Six**

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Ron's scream pierced Harry's ears. It was shrill, the wail of a banshee, and chilled the sweat coating his skin. Light flared around him as Hermione's wand burst with a _lumos_. Harry gaped at the scene. Ron had slammed himself against the door, his full weight just barely holding back the tide of Biters. He kept slipping in his own blood that emptied from a bite in his arm. A Biter was chewing through skin to bone, nails tearing at the flesh ruthlessly.

Harry lunged, whacking Ron against the door, forcing the Biters further back.

"Hermione! Cut it off!" He screamed. His grip on Ron tightened as Hermione's _lumos_ died. Barely in the light leaking through the gap in the door did he see her wand movement, the cutting curse flew, the hissing spit of blood spattered against his cheeks and Ron howled, thrashing against him. Hermione summoned rope, tying it around the bleeding stump.

"Go!" Harry shook Ron. "You listen to me, you go! You run. Do not look back. Don't you die on me."

Ron whacked his head back on the door, gritting his teeth.

Harry smacked him over the cheek. "Ron, stay awake. I refuse to lose my first friend. Stay awake!"

Ron nodded weakly.

Harry grabbed for the door handle. "Hermione, I'm going to open this door on the count of three. Cast the _patronus_ and run."

"Harry," she begged.

"Hermione! Do what I say."

Gathering Ron against her Hermione nodded.

"One." Harry timed his words with her wand twirls. "Two, three."

Hermione's _patronus_ burst forth from her wand tip, the light intense, hot, and beautiful, she forced it forward like a shield, beating the Biter's backward through the doorway and he could see the strain on her face as her magic drained from the intensity of the magical burn.

"Cut it!" Harry shouted as he faced the Biters through the light.

The glow vanished, plunging the world back into darkness. He heard Ron and Hermione's footsteps echo down the corridor, away from him, and he faced the herd of Biters with his single knife and his tingling right arm.

"Yeah," he hissed. "Come on, let's play tag."

He had faced down worse threats then this and lived. There was no way he was ever—ever—going to die at the hands of a bunch of corpses, at least he wanted to die by the hands of the living. Setting his jaw Harry rocketed forward, using his slim build and Seeker skills to maneuver his way through the Biters swiftly, batting their arms and legs aside with well-aimed kicks and quick _flipendo_ with his right hand. He made it through and dropped his arm, it swung loose at his side as he ran down the corridor, hearing the Biter's scramble after him like he was a rabbit. His arm burned. How—just how had Merlin done this centuries ago, how had the great Warlock dealt with the sheer agony of using his own body as an instrument of the earth's magical energy. He could not understand what the warlock had done—but he wished, this very moment, that he had unlocked the secret that had made Merlin a legend.

A set of swinging doors lay ahead and he burst through them.

A loud yelp escaped his lips as he tripped, realizing to late that there where stairs before him. There was no way he could avoid falling down them, all he could do was cushion the agonizing landing with a spell through his right hand. He landed, bouncing against the soft ground that hardened instantly as he slammed against the back wall. Harry crawled upright, thankful Oliver Wood had taught everyone in the Quidditch Team the cushioning spell for accidental bad landings off their brooms. He never thought he would be using it for falling down a flight of stairs though.

He looked up, through his matted hair, at the Biters at the top of the stairs. Any moment now, they would come tumbling down in a pile, smothering him like a swarm of bees. His right arm was almost limp. He could not surge any more magic through it, this was going to have to be it.

Biting his lips, tasting blood, Harry drew on the deep, untapped depths of his magical core, the place that had been cloistered away so tightly, hidden like he had been, in a cupboard under the stairs, because drawing it out would make him a freak, a terror, a nightmare.

He let it loose, just enough to slam his hand against the concrete. The ripple of magical energy pulsed through the ground.

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Daryl turned around. He scowled at the sharp, sheering pain that flowed up his legs in a throb. How he knew it was a cry for help, he was not sure, but it he would be damned if he ignored it. He heard Luna's squeak from the cell she had chosen and his lips compressed. Well. That settled that then.

"Where is Harry?" he spoke softly, interjecting into Sirius and Rick's loud conversation about clearing the lower levels now that they had managed to take C-Block. Sirius was concerned about leaving Remus so near to the full moon.

Honestly, the answer was simple. Stay with the damned wolf. Let them clear it. It was not like they were incompetent idiots. The man was an incompetent idiot, losing track of his kids all the time. Even Rick, for all his faults as a father, kept a better eye on Carl.

"Harry?" Sirius looked startled. "What do you mean? Where is Harry?"

"He's not here, dumbass." Daryl motioned. Stupid. Was that not obvious with what he said. He eyed Sirius starkly before snorting and heading for Luna's cell, ignoring Sirius' protests. She looked up at his entrance, but did not speak. He rested a hand briefly on her head before seizing his crossbow and arrows.

"You'll find him, won't you?" she murmured.

Daryl nodded. "Find Sam, or Carol, stick with them while I'm gone."

"Is Glenn, or Skye, going with you?"

He shook his head. "Best they stay, look after everyone. Skye'll have tah sooth the waters with the dog."

"Okay." She darted out of the cell and he followed.

His eyes met Sirius' and he frowned at the man.

"I'll come with you."

"Stay with the wolf." Daryl shoved past. "You said you're the only one who can sooth him."

"But Harry—"

"If you can't bloody well notice where he is, then don't bother." Daryl shot back.

Rick stepped between them. Daryl sensed both Glenn and Skye coming up behind him like shadows. Likely Carol and Maggie where not far behind. He wondered where Sam was—nope—she was likely puking into a bowl now that he thought about it. Her face had been rather off color since they had arrived. Probably a good thing he sent Luna to her.

"Hasn't anyone noticed we're missing four people?" Daryl motioned to the iron barred gates. "Or are you all just that happy to be safe."

At that moment, Draco came out of his cell, the scowl on his face could not have expressed the displeasure Daryl felt any better. The kid was a genius.

"Has anyone seen Hermione? I need to discuss the Rune's we're going to use to bring the automobiles into the inner courtyard…what are you all looking at me for?"

"Hermione." Maggie gasped. "She was with T-Dog and Ron, oh no."

"See," Daryl snorted. "Fucking four."

"They're missing!" Draco tore past them, toward the gate, as though his feet were on fire.

Daryl snagged his shoulder before the kid made it any further. "Hold it, _Dragon_."

"Let go of me."

"Listen." Daryl cocked his head.

Frightened footsteps thudding on concreate flooring could be heard coming their way. Skye lunged for the gate, unbolting it, heaving it open as Hermione and Ron rushed through the common room. Daryl's eyes widened at the sight of the blood Ron was trailing. It took a moment for him to assess the damage—holy shit—the carrot's arm was gone.

"Ronald!" Sirius sounded like he'd choked on his tongue as Hermione and Ron stumbled through the entrance. Ron collapsed like a limp, pale doll, trembling and sweating. His eyes rolled back in his head.

"Catch him!" Daryl shouted.

Draco skidded across the floor, grabbing Ron before he smacked his head.  
"Mother of _Morgana_." Draco swore. "What happened? Hershel! HERSHEL! LUNA!"

Hermione curled herself into Sirius' arms, her sobs loud, open wrenches.

"We got lost! Bi…Biters! They attacked us. T-Dog is…is…he's dead. We got stuck in a room," Hermione breathed quickly, as though trying to regain composure, but it was useless, her hysteria worsened the more she spoke.

"Ron blocked the door and was bitten. Harry. Harry told me to…to…to cut off his arm!"

By now the rest of the group had arrived. Daryl inched closer to the gate, motioning to Skye with a jostle of his shoulder a tweak of an eyebrow. The man replied back with a small movement of his hand, indicating the gate was unlatched.

"Harry lost his wand." Hermione spluttered. "But he refused. He used himself as bait."

Maggie smothered Hermione in her arms, rocking her back and forth. Draco was in a flurry around Ron, with Luna stepping around him, holding out potions. Daryl shared a brief glance with Rick as he carefully and silently stepped out of the gate. The unofficial leader simply gave him a brief nod as Skye bolted the gate behind him, and he vanished into the darkness, leaving them behind to deal with the chaos.

He twisted his grip on his crossbow. Damn kids, getting lost. He could not blame them entirely though. This place was quite the creep-fest of a maze. Bet it would be until they fully cleared it and mapped it—and even then—he doubted it would ever really fell warm and fuzzy like. It was a prison. Merle had always said they were stark, unhappy places, made to feel endless and soulless. His brother would have known.

Groans and shuffling of Walkers from distant corridors caught his ears, but he ignored them, following the eerie sensation he could not quite explain; like a thin thread, tugging on his boots. Every so often he caught signs of spells having hits walls, damaging the concreate. He knew he must have been heading in the right direction.

His stomach turned with an uncomfortable, disgusted twist as he came upon a pile of decapitated Walkers. Only cutting curses could have done it with such precision. Silently he went around stabbing each head with a knife, muttering about the stupidity of the kids not actually killing them with a final blow. He was seriously going to have to have a talk about this with them. Walkers could still bite with just a head.

The warm, tugging thread pulled on his fingers as he knelt back from the final Walker's crushed skull and he frowned, wiggling his blood stained fingers. He would have thought it pins-and-needles from gripping his knife to tight, only the sensation was far to foreign. Creasing his brow he slowly picked his way through the bloodied bodies, searching for the source of the tiny call. Heaving a Walker's body aside Daryl tugged free a stick.

No.

Not a stick.

A wand. He twirled it about playfully. Harry's wand to be precise. Without this, the kid only had the knife that Skye had been trying to teach the scrawny little boy to use. It took a bit of force for a gaunt little kid to stick a knife into a Walker's skull, that was for sure. Daryl sighed. Maybe it was about time to teach Luna as well. Heaving himself to his feet he stuck the stick—wand—the _wand_ —into his vest pocket, and continued down the corridor.

The sound of ripping, munching, slurping and moaning assaulted his ears, causing a sudden spike in his heart rate. Without realizing it, he sped up, toward the horrid stench of the undead roamers clustered in a side storeroom. He carefully peered into the room, taking quick note.

Harry was not there. The tightness in his chest relaxed, just slightly.

The Walker's had congregated around a body. Ah. Fuck-it. _T-Dog_. Daryl raised his crossbow, snarling slightly as he fired swiftly. A single Walker remained, rearing for him. He slammed it back, thrusting forward with his legs, digging a dagger deep up and into the spine and skull of the Walker. It slumped back, limp as it sagged and collapsed at his feet. Carefully he stepped over it, flicking blood off his hands to kneel at T-Dog's side.

Open eyes stared at him in. Such kind eyes they had been. Such accepting eyes. He reached out, closing them before digging his dagger swiftly into the man's temple. No use leaving him to turn now that he had not been eaten.

They'd have to come back for him. He deserved to be buried.

"Sorry," Daryl murmured. "Thanks of protecting the kids."

He wasn't surprised. T-Dog had been that sort of guy. He never even meant to leave Merle on the bloody roof and he'd hated himself for it. Weird thing was, Merle wouldn't have thought twice leaving him there.

"Ain't no black or white now, brother," Daryl whispered. "Just meat." He turned away, heaving the door shut, dragging Walker bodies in front of it, hoping at least that would keep more out until they could return to collect the body.

Every so often he came across a boot print in blood. It was small enough to be Harry's, he took that as a good sign. The kid was not dead yet. That was affirmed as truth when a scream caught his attention, alarming him into action and he ran in the direction of the cry. Swinging doors into what must have been a basement of some sort admitted an odd glow. Daryl surged forward, staring down a flight of stairs. Harry was balancing on railing, kicking madly at thrashing Walkers surrounding him. The boy's right arm was limp at his side, but he was welding his knife, stabbing at any Walker that got to close. The rage in his eyes was intense, a rage that came only with the fear of death.

Suddenly, Harry slipped. He went down, into the pile of Walkers.

"Shit." Daryl swung down the stairs, snatching up a loose metal pole, he ran, driving it through the first Walker, heaving on the undead body, sending it into the others. They staggered back, just enough to free the kid.

"Harry!" Daryl called out.

The boy dragged himself up, staggering slightly, before running toward him.

"Up the stairs, go! Up!" Daryl shouted. "Now!"

Harry obeyed. Releasing the pole Daryl turned, following Harry in a mad dash up the stairs and through the door. He swung it shut, grappling for the nearby chain and looping it through the handles.

"Daryl!" Harry's yelp made him duck the groping hand that loomed out of the darkness. He snagged hold of the Walker from behind, swinging it around, gripping the head and smashing it against the metal door—again—again—blood splattered his face.

Eventually it went limp. He let it slide down. His body shook with the rush of adrenalin. Swinging his crossbow around, he fired into the gloom of the passage way, hearing the thud of a body drop. The chained door ratted, but it held. He spat at it, cursing as he booted the dead Walker, strolling away to retrieve his arrow.

Returning through the shadows he watched a trembling Harry gradually come out of his panic, seeming to realize the immediate danger was gone. Shock was now setting in.

Harry slid down the wall, blood leaking from the wound across his head. Daryl dropped his crossbow, catching the boy before he crumbled into a heap. The weak boy wrapped himself around him. Daryl gently settled a hand on the blood smothered hair, accepting the sobbing teen against his chest.

"You're all right, kid," he whispered. "You did good."

"I…I…thought…I thought I was… _dead_."

Hands curled into his leather vest. Daryl closed his eyes. Yeah. There had been a few times he had thought the same over the last two years. Well. It seemed like the kid was not up to walking his way out of this. Daryl sighed, bending over to snatch up his crossbow. He slung it over his shoulder.

"Come on, kid."

With a grunt Daryl heaved the boy into his arms. The lad was far too light. Though, that was unsurprising, considering his upbringing that Skye had mentioned. It had made his gut clench. It was too much like his own, in a strange way. At least he'd had Merle as company, as awful as his brother had been. There had been no company for this kid in his misery. Daryl shook his head, turning back around, walking over the decomposing bodies of the Walkers.

When in hell had he become such a bleeding-heart? Oh. Yeah. When the fucking world ended.

"I…I'm sorry," the weak voice of the kid startled him.  
Daryl glanced down, studying the green eyes glinting in the darkness.

"Don apologize, shit happens."

"But I'm just a burden."

"You're a kid, you're supposed to be a burden. Live with it and shut up."

Harry's breathing settled into a lull, his body growing heavier as it fell to exhaustion.

Gradually light folded back into the corridors as windows became more frequent. Soon he heard voices as he moved through the common area of C-Block and came to stand at the barred gate. Luna was waiting, staring through the bars with her absent gaze. Sam sat beside her, hand drumming on her knee. Daryl tensed when he sensed Skye leap down from the block of stairs above and land beside him, relaxing only when the man pulled out keys and headed for the gate.

"Sirius tried to get out?"

"Yeah." Skye chuckled. "Good thing his magic is so low, or I would have been toast. Rick gave him a good punch though. Those two are so similar its hilarious to watch. How's Harry?"

"I think he's got a broken rib. Also, his head's split someplace."

"I'll get Draco," Sam stood. She brushed at her skirt, as if it was going to make any difference to the blood stains.

Daryl pursed his lips. "Can he be spared, how's the…"

"Ron, the name you're looking for, Daryl, is Ron." Skye's tired laughter deserved a punch in the gut, with his arms full of Harry, he could only send him a glare.

Sam blew a long rasp. "Touch and go. Not out of the woods by a long shot, but I'm pretty sure he's stable for now." She wandered off, a slight tilt to her walk.

"How's she doing?" Daryl raised an eyebrow. Sam's color was still off. Few would have noticed it, perhaps Lori, considering her condition had been similar, but he doubted anyone in the group would take note.

Skye's shrug was on the tense side. "A little better. The morning sickness is starting to get to her."

"It's evening," Luna piped up.

"It can happen any time, luv," Daryl offered gently.

"Oh." She stepped aside as the gate swung open. "I didn't know that."

Skye rebolted the gate. He settled a hand on Luna's shoulder as they walked through the vacant cells, toward the light of magical lamps. "Sounds like you and I are due for a bit of a chat, Luna."

Daryl stuck out a tongue, grimacing at the very idea.

Skye's laughter filled the dark cell block. "Well, I did help run my parent's youth center, in between my…other…activities."

"Yah, you can handle the sex talks, thanks, bro."

"Make me do all the hard stuff. This relationship is not working out Daryl, we're going to need a divorce."

Daryl snorted. "Sue me, 'arling." Settling Harry down on the bunk in the cell Luna had chosen Daryl wiped back the boy's bloodied hair, feeling the odd scar across his forehead.

"Think he'll be all right?" Skye murmured softly from his spot by the open cage door, he was propped up against the wall, leaning against it. To anyone who was not observant, he would have simply looked as though he was relaxed, but Daryl had spent far too long around men who faked relaxation. He was alert and primed for action.

"Time will tell." Daryl scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"Out of my way! Move it, _sexy-legs_." Using Sam's coined nick-name, much to Skye's disgust, which only made Daryl smirk, Draco suddenly shoved past Skye. Along with the young wizard, half their group seemed to gravitate to the tiny cell. Daryl stoically watched the concerned faces surrounding him, inwardly amused at amount of sheer love and devotion he was swamped with. He managed to squeeze himself out of the cell, letting Luna take his place beside Harry. The kid would be fine now, he hoped.

He joined Skye by the—all right—the indoor _magical_ fire. Nice homey touch to the dank, murky cell block. This cuddly warmth he could get used to. He seated himself with a bone weary sigh, noting that neither Remus or Sirius where nearby. That was, perhaps, a good thing, considering two of their 'kids' where down and wounded. Personally, he did not want to meet Remus when _that_ man was furious. Sirius seemed pretty tame, Remus on the other hand, had a wild animal under his skin. Daryl shivered at the thought.

Rick motioned further down the cell at his unspoken question.

The unofficial leader— _dictator_ , he was in half a mind to grumble in amusement—was getting pretty good at reading his little eyebrow lifts. "Sirius insisted they be as far away from the main group as possible. We locked them up in the last cell."

"Yeah, apparently he stays a dog the whole night while Remus is a wolf." Glenn shook his head. "Amazing."

Daryl snorted. It was not that _amazing_. Stories of shape-shifting people existed everywhere—right—even _he_ knew that. So, they just—happened to be real. He accepted a plate of Harry's finely baked bread, and what must have been one of the last cans of spaghetti from Carol. She swung a leg over a bench, seating herself beside him. She worriedly used a wet towel to wipe blood off his face, and more worriedly, he let her.

"How did you find Harry?"

Daryl pursed his lips. "Tr—."

"Don't say it's because you're good at tracking." Rick jutted his spoon around as if it was a blade.

Fine. They wanted an answer. He would give them one and see what reaction he'd get.

"Magic." Daryl raised his eyebrows.

Sam laughed from her spot, slumped in Skye's lap. "Good one, dirt-bag."

Daryl kept his smile to himself, tucking into the spaghetti, savoring the flavor as it hit the gnawing hungry spot in his gut. They could think whatever the hell they liked.

There was one thing he knew for sure.

The kid, and the moonshine princess, they were his family. He always, always found family. No matter where they were. Looking around at the gathered faces surrounding him, it was strange to think that it had taken society to crumble for a man like him to find a place—to find a home—to find a family.

And now he would never let it go.

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Harry jolted awake.

Where was he?

What had happened?

Ron. Hermione. Ron's arm.

He had been dreaming—

No. Wait. He squinted. Oh. Right. He had gotten lost and Ron—he choked on his saliva as the metallic scent of blood filled his mind with images. Darkness, so sudden and shocking, enveloping them like a cape, and the shriek that had catapulted him forward upon realizing Ron, his first friend, had almost been taken from him.

What in Merlin's name had come over him to tell Hermione to take off his arm? Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears leaked down his cheeks. The whites of Ron's eyes, round and full of terror and pain, would echo in his dreams.

A rough, worn hand settled on his arm, squeezing tightly. Weakly he turned his head, catching the light of a magic lamp on damp, brown hair and a recently washed, unshaven face. Harry blinked a few times, adjusting his vision to the dim burn.

"D...Daryl?" he choked out.

"You're all right, kid."

The man sat with his back against the cell wall beside the bunks, wrapped tightly in his poncho, gear spread around him on a mat of blankets. It appeared as though he had been sorting through stuff, or perhaps cleaning his crossbow and making more arrows but then Harry noticed the vast amount of leather around the man. It had been cut into interesting shapes.

Was he making clothes? Armor—was that even possible?

Harry tried to sit up, wincing at the sharp pain catching his chest.

Daryl shifted, his poncho coming loose around his neck, falling from his shoulders as he picked up a small cup nearby.

"Here, Draco said to give this to yer when yeh woke up."

Carefully, and with a great amount of effort, Harry sipped the potion. His tongue danced over the top of his mouth as the potion burnt its way down his throat. He parted his lips, letting the little bit of steam escape, knowing from past experience it was best to vent Skele-gro. It was not a strong one, or Draco had watered it down with a pain potion. Previous discussions with Luna had let him know Skele-gro was one of the few potions that could be mixed with pain potions and remain untainted.** Someone—anyone—should have let Madam Pomfrey know that in his second year.

It would find the breaks and fractures in his broken ribs and fix them by morning no doubt. He was grateful for it, but damn it was going to hurt, and damn it tasted like sipping mushed up cockroaches. Harry suppressed the urge to vomit, the sudden image of that being just what the potion was actually made of cramping his stomach muscles.

Daryl set the cup aside and eased him back onto the uncomfortable and slightly stale smelling mattress under him.

"Where's Luna?" Harry murmured.

Daryl motioned up. There was a bunk above Harry, a curve in the saggy, dirty mattress that lay on old, rusty springs. Harry tried to settle his rushing heart. The tightness of the space bringing back the squeeze of the cupboard under the stairs. Sweat pooled against the nape of his collar bone, as gradually, he uncurled muscle by muscle.

"Sorry for taking your bed."

The look that Daryl gave him was stoic, but all the years he had spent reading his Uncle's little twitches had taught him to read between the wrinkles. He was aspirating the man, and amusing him at the same time, he could tell, just by the ever so tiny tweaks of Daryl's lips upturning and his eyebrows lifting.

"Yer apologize a lot, anyone ever told yer that?"

Harry's lips cracked upon frowning. He tasted blood. "No."

"Well, stop. Shut up and accept things. I sleep better on floors anyway."

"Sor—" Harry gagged on the apology.

Daryl reached out. His arm was given another pat, the touch like a bolt of electricity.

"Did Draco…say anything…about my arm?"

Daryl groaned. He scrubbed at his chin. "Something about wandless magic, too much energy through the nerves or whatever." Daryl flapped his hand about. "Use your wand for a few days."

"I dropped my wand," Harry hissed. "It's gone." He could not repress the disgust at swelled up from within, aimed directly at himself and his incompetence. Professor Lupin and Sirius where going to be furious with him. If he had just calmed down, thought through the situation, not acted so rashly then he might have processed things better. He might have remembered that he could have summoned his wand with a simple _accio_ and saved the whole situation! That was the whole benefit of his wandless magic, he could actually summon his own wand back into his own hand. Then again...Hermione had not even remembered...so perhaps he was not entirely at fault.

No. It was his fault. He was entirely responsible for his own actions.

Harry groaned, thumping his head back into the mattress. He was so, so, stupid. Draco would never let him live it down!  
What if the wand had been stepped on by a Biter and gotten snapped? How could he have been so stupid as to use it to stab a Biter!

Something was dangled in front of his nose. He blinked a few times before gasping. His wand! His mouth dried. He could not speak. A weight that had been crushing him seemed to dribble away. Daryl chuckled, a deep, rough sound of oddly warm mirth. The man tucked the wand back into the pocket of his vest. Harry made a fumbling motion for it. It was precious, so precious. His fingers needed to feel the smooth texture of the wood, his magical core the song of Fawkes feather to know it was real and safe.

"I'll just keep it here," the hunter gave it a pat, "until you're up and about."

Harry melted back into the mattress.

"You found it. How?"

"Same way I found you. Followed the string."

"Earth magic." Harry curled his fingers tightly into the mattress as the first wave of the Skele-gro potion began. _Morgana_ , it was as though sharp knives were digging into his flesh. He fought the sheering heat, trying to focus on the relief he had felt when he had heard Daryl's voice, and seen the man on top of the stairs. Someone—someone had actually come—someone had actually come to save _him_.

He was not the one doing the saving—someone had come to help him. It was not Sirius, it was not Remus, it was not someone obligated to protect him because he was a duty, it was just—someone saving him.

Just because.

Daryl had returned to his work. Harry crinkled his nose at the scent of a bitter cigarette.

"Those are _really_ bad for you."

"So is living."

Harry scoffed. "Right."

"Tell yeh what," Daryl popped out the last cigarette in his box. "You can have my last one, if you lie there, heal up, and don't whine like a bitch. Big day tomorrow. We're gonna need all yeh can give."

Despite the tightness of his chest Harry sighed. He gradually held out his hand, accepting the cigarette that was plopped between his fingers.

"You're a terrible father-figure."

Daryl lit the cigarette with his lighter. "Ever had one, heh?"

Harry shook his head. "No…not really, other that Sirius. No."

"Then how can yeh tell?" Daryl raised an eyebrow.

Harry pondered that thought. True enough. How was he supposed to tell what was a good father-figure if he had never had one, he had only the ideas, the concepts, the stereotype he had heard of to go from. With a huff of agreement, he took a breath of the cigarette and instantly choked on it.

" _Merlin_ , that's awful." Harry gagged. "How do you…how do you smoke _that_."

Daryl only laughed. "Good thing it was my last, heh."

Harry smiled hesitantly. "Yeah. Yeah…" He shyly tried again. Glad that he had a distraction from the Skele-gro, wondering if that had been the man's aim all along.

For what felt like a long time silence sat between them, as heavy as the cigarette smoke filled air. Harry stared at the bulge of the bunk above him, feeling safe in the knowledge that it was Luna above him. He should never have worried that he was back in his cupboard, not when he was surrounded by the warm light of a magical lantern and the magic of friends.

"Damnit." He groaned.

"Hm?"

"I need to piss."

"Don't we all." He heard Daryl grunt as the man slowly stood, setting aside all his tools. Harry blushed as the bed covers where pulled back and he realized he was only in his shorts. Draco must have stripped him, just to make sure he did not overheat while taking the Skele-gro, it did tend to cause an over-heating reaction.

But that meant—

Harry gulped as Daryl reached under him, heaving him up like a doll. He closed his eyes. It was not the jarring pain of his ribs, or the ache of his arm that almost made tears come, it was sensation of the man's skin against his raised scars. He tried so hard to keep the blush of shame from tickling his cheeks, but it tinted his skin anyway.  
Daryl carted him out of the cell and through the block. He noticed everyone was deep in slumber, accept for Rick, who stood on silent guard by the main entrance. Daryl acknowledged the man with a simple tip of his head before they ducked into vacant cell. Harry was set on his feet, he stumbled slightly, his knees weak. Daryl held him under his arm-pits.

"Ok'y?" the man whispered.

"Ye…yeah, I can stand." Harry nodded.

He was released and he stood taller.

Beside another magically lit lamp, a bucket had been set. Harry stared at it. Daryl leant against the nearby wall.

"What is this?" Harry frowned.

"What do you think it is, it's the piss bucket."

"Wow. We're so modern." Harry grumbled. "I'm guessing Luna spelled it to send all the gross to some volcano far away. That'd be her style."

All he received was a shrug and a, "Whatever," from the hunter.  
The prison was so eerily silent, it spooked him as he finished his business and weakly turned back, staggering out of the small cell. Daryl practically caught him before he tumbled over. Harry winced, unable to stop the action when firm, calloused hands met his scarred back.

"I won't hurt you, kid."  
"I know," Harry murmured. "No one here will. Doesn't stop me thinking it though."

He was led back through the cell block, his bare feet cold upon the concrete. His thoughts wandered to the countless prisoners who had wandered the same desolate hall, the crimes they had committed, or perhaps, some of them had been innocent, like his godfather—locked up for a wrong-doing they had never done. So many lives, taken and lost, just like Ron had almost been taken and lost to him.

Harry scrubbed away the threatening tears.

He climbed back into the bed, shivering at the warmth that still remained within the covers from his body-heat. He curled himself deeper into the awful mattress, just glad he had one to snuggle into. It was far better than anything he'd had as a little boy, after all, alone, under the stairs.

He stared into the odd little flame of the magically lit lamp, casting shadows on the wall of their cell. Daryl had shifted back to his spot and gathered up the leather he was working with. No matter how content the man looked, Harry knew otherwise. He might have appeared relaxed, but Harry truly doubted Daryl let his guard down. A part of him wished he was more like the hunter.

"Sirius doesn't know how bad it was…the…abuse," Harry whispered. "I'm scared to tell him. Even now, after the world's gone to shit. I'm still scared to tell him. Despite knowing his family was horrible to him too."

Daryl settled his work on his lap. His gaze was oddly distant, staring at the entrance to their cell door, as if something was going to jump out suddenly from the darkness. "His family ever beat him?"

"No."

"There is a difference, kid."

"How do you know?" Harry murmured.

Daryl's eyes sought his. The man's craggily voice was soft, a few tenors above a whisper. "I know."

Blankets where tucked around Harry. He did not tense at the tender offer, but focused on not becoming a blubbering mess of tears. Not even Molly Weasley had tucked him in, despite all her mothering and hugs.

"Sorry to burst yer bubble, but you're not unique, or special, in the world." Daryl hunched back.

Harry closed his eyes, relaxing into the uncomfortable prison mattress. He had never before had anyone tell him he was not special, that he was not unique. It was rather nice to be told such things when forever and a day in the Magical World he had been so darn important. Now—he was just—not important at all.

It was rather humbling.

Suddenly a terrible thought accrued to him. "T-Dog…oh no…Daryl…the Biters, they must have gotten to him."

"Will you…sleep…kid." Daryl massaged his temples, as if fighting back a tension headache. "I tried to block the door. Hopefully he's still around for us tah bury or burn. Don worry."

Harry settled back again, only to tense right back up. He was being so stupid; how could he have forgotten to ask the most important question of all!

"And…and…Ron? Is he…?"

"He's not dead."

Harry sagged. The fight drained out of him and silence filled the tiny cell, broken every so often by the crackle of magic from the nearby lamp, or a shuffle from Daryl. Harry stared at the lump Luna made in the mattress above. It was weird, he was not entirely sure what to feel. A sort of hollowness had opened up inside, sucking everything in. Would Ron hate him for what he had done? As the hollowness faded, leaving him just a vacant parchment for the next day, Harry breathed out deeply. He could accept Ron's hatred, Ron's fury, Ron's rejection because Ron was still alive to hate him. That was all that mattered—Ron was alive.

"Hey...Daryl…"

"Hmp."

"T-Dog said he was going to a better place; do you think so?"

"T-Dog was very religious, worked in a church before all this happened." Daryl sighed heavily, as if finally accepting that he was not going to be sleeping any time soon.

"A pastor?" Harry almost sat up sharply.

Daryl scratched his chin. "Donno if he was a pastor, but he worked for his community."

"How do you know that?"

Daryl looked amused. "Kid, yah have been talking to me for almost an hour. Despite what everyone thinks, I can have a conversation."

"No…I…well…I didn't mean it like that. I just…how did you find that out?"

"It's called talking..."

Harry grimaced.

"He was religious. I just, did not picture it." Then again, his concept of holy-men had not been that great, considering the image his Aunt and Uncle had painted up to terrify him.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "You ever thinking of _sleeping_?"

Harry settled back again. "I never would have guessed…"

"He took a truck around, delivering food to families who needed it. Then, when the outbreak happened…took the truck and evacuated all the elderly residents he could find to refugee centers." Daryl held up the leather gauntlets he was shaping, studying them with his calloused fingers as if he was feeling for imperfections. "He was a _good_ man. It's a damn shame. A real…damn shame."

Harry looked at the work Daryl had completed, wondering just who he was putting all the effort in for. It made a bitter taste in his mouth, and it was not the potion he had consumed. Whoever Daryl was spending the time and effort for, the man must have cared about—and he wished, his stomach gripped tight—he just wished someone cared for him like that. The tight knot unwound as the thought that he was lying in a bed, beside the man, having a conversation while he worked, fluttered into his mind.

"Is Rick a good man?"

"Rick is a man of _honor_."

Harry compressed his lips. What was the difference between a good man and a man of honor? That was really interesting—he had never even thought about such a strange concept. This was something he was going to have to keep an eye on. It made him wonder what Professor Lupin and Sirius where.

"What are you?"

"Family." Daryl looked to the ceiling, as if he was searching for the unseen sky.

Harry blinked away tears. "Yeah. I want to be that too someday."

His arm was given another pat. "Yeh will be, kid. Just live long enough to grow up."

It was a weird half laugh, half choking sob that escaped Harry's throat. "That's a long call now."

"Anything's possible."

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** - Did some research on skele-gro and I actually don't know if this is possible, but meh, enjoying the process of writing so…yay…fanon…

 _Thank you all for reading. Hope you enjoyed the update._

 _Catch you all again soon. Keep well!_

 _Cheers,_

 _KL_


	7. Chapter 7

_Just wanted to let folks know that there are no adult/teenager relationships in this fic. This is a family-building fic. What relationships that may be/will be established will be adult/adult or teenager/teenager and if—IF—I get as far as I want, there is a possible pairing of Charlie and Beth, which is a six-year gap, 16 and 22, but considering that's the age gap between my parents (actually my parents are seven) and they met when my mother was sixteen, I think it's passable? Right? *Please don't shoot me*_

 _However, that's a MAYBE, I could change my mind. Remember, this is a crossover with the Walking Dead, someone might DIE before I get around to the pairing. XD_

 _Anyway, just wanted to establish that, encase anyone was worried – I'll add a note at the beginning of the fic as well, as I know it can be confusing on this site sometimes. :)_

 _But this fic is very much about building a family and surviving in a zombie apocalypse, which is very much what I love about the Walking Dead, and why I think it's such a good show. As hilarious as it sounds, I watch it because the characters have become a 'family' and I enjoy seeing what they do in the situations thrown at them. ^^;_

 _With that said,_

 _Enjoy the update!_

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 **Chapter Seven**

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It had come upon the world so quietly that Dudley had barely noticed it at first. Rumours, whispers just touching the surfaces of conversations. Shady glances shared between his friends as they murmured in the back of the classroom—did you see that Youtube video—did you read that article—did you hear about that incident?

Perhaps it was because of Harry that he started to take more notice of the subtle changes in the neighbourhood. Harry had taught him to be observant, to never let his guard down, just encase he had to run from one of those—Death Eaters—in the end, it was not an eater of death that came upon them, but the undead themselves.

So clearly the memory was burned into him, like the scars that littered his arms from glass shattering. Dudley fingered the thick lines marring his skin.

Mr. Duncan from number five Privet Drive had woken them screaming, smashing on the back door of the house. Harry had only left a few days prior, and Dudley had thought he could finally relax for the rest of the summer, no longer would he have to watch out for his cousin around his father and mother.

All his instincts told him, the moment he was awoken in the dead of the night, by the screams and the smashing of glass, that the world he knew was no more.

Thundering down the stairs after his father, he had encountered a horrific scene. He knew Mr. Duncan's two sons had been into drugs, he and his friends had caught them a few times in the park, behind the dumpsters—it had not been a pretty sight.

But it was nothing like this. Drugs didn't do this, at least, not that he knew of. Drugs didn't make sons eat their fathers in the living room of their neighbour. The screaming and wailing was echoed down the street and he finally realized he was hearing sirens, and there was a distinct scent of smoke filling the air.

"Go," his father ordered, "I'll deal with this."

He might not have liked his father much, but he did respect the man as a son.

"Mum!" He had grabbed his mother, dragging her up the stairs. "Get a bag, just grab what you can." Shoving her into her room he had madly dashed for his own, ripping open his wardrobe, yanking out the emergency bag he had stashed away. Harry had drilled it into him, have it there, keep it there, check it every month, repack it every month, someday you are going to need it, someday the wards will fail, someday they will come.

Was this it?

He had no idea, but he had to act how Harry had taught him. Did he had time to get his friends? He had panicked at that moment, not knowing if he had drilled into Piers the importance of his get-away bag enough. Snatching up the bag, he threw it over his shoulder and tore out of his room, slapping open the door into Harry's room. Desperately he had searched for the correct floorboard and hacked at it with his pocket knife, finding within it, the precious few wizarding coins, a note Harry had written for such a disaster, and the spare keys into Mrs. Figg's house.

Stuffing them all into his pockets he ran back out into the corridor. His mother stood, dressed in a flowery skirt and cardigan, bearing a heavy suitcase. He'd snatched it from her.

"Come on!"

"Dudley—"

"Move."

"Your father."

"Dad! Come on!" Thundering back down the stairs Dudley rounded into the living room, pulling back in horror at the sight. His father had just lay there, in a pile of blood, his throat ripped out, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He'd heard the strangled cry his mother gave behind him, and it caused him to react, realizing that Mr. Duncan's sons were still staggering about—eating—eating his father.

Everything in him had wanted to vomit, but he refused, he had turned, grabbed his mother's wrist and ran. Into the street and toward Piers house.

Perhaps it was a good thing it was still night-time, that the chaos of the situation had not yet set in on the world, as he doubted he would have made it very far down the street if more of the—undead—had been out and about that night. Reaching Piers house, he flung rocks at his friend's window until Piers opened it, peering out, looking all blurry eyed from sleep.

"Yo? What's up?"

"Operation Harry."

"Ahhh, shit-man, seriously, now?" Piers vanished back into his room.

Dudley recalled feeling his mother's tug on his wrist. He'd glanced back at her, noticing she was looking down the street. Like a hearth burning low, London was lit with a growing yellow warmth. London was burning. London was burning.

"Dudley, do you see it?" Piers called out.

"Yeah."

"It's bad man."

"Yeah. Mum, don't look. Just don't look."

Piers had thrown his pack out the window and vaulted onto the roof, scampering down until he caught the roof ledge and with an acrobatic twist he landed on the grass. He was a total show off, always liked to reveal his awesome stunt skills.

"Piers!" His mother hissed. "I have told you not to do that!"

Piers had just shrugged. "It's what I'm good at, like mah parents care, right?"

His mother had huffed. She knew the rumours, very few people on the street did not know the rumours about Piers family life. The currency of their street was rumours.

"Is it happening?" Piers had popped out his phone.

"Yeah. Dad's dead."

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry, Mrs. D!"

"Piers! Language," his mother snapped. They both could not blame her. She was near hysterical. Dudley grabbed her wrist again, dragging her down the street. Folk were beginning to spread out onto the lawns and street, and he'd had no idea who was a danger and who wasn't. Piers had a stolen gun from his brother, who was a cop, but that was all they'd had to work with and at the time, they'd had no idea what they were fighting.

Getting his mother inside was the best option he could think of.

"I don't think it's the wizards, Piers. They wouldn't do this."

"Nope." Piers had shoved his mobile into his face, showing a youtube video of something rather similar to the scene he had witnessed in his living room. Of people eating people. Once more, the sensation of wanting to vomit gripped his stomach.

"What's going on?" He had choked out.

"Let me see that," his mother insisted and Piers had no choice but to show the youtube clip. He had watched his mother's flushed cheeks pale, and sweat gather under her chin. The frailness of her hands was all the more apparent as they shook and she shoved the mobile back into Piers.

"They look sick."

"Well, dah, Mrs. D," Piers grumbled. "Normal people don't go around eating other people."

"No," his mother had insisted, "I mean they don't…they don't look…alive. Their movements are not right." She had quietened down after that, lost in her own thoughts.

Dudley turned to Piers. "You sure you have everything, don't want to say goodbye to your parents?"

Piers shrugged on his backpack. "Hell no, good riddens. Let's find Harry."

"Dudley, where are we going?" His mother's face had been so pale in the dim light of the street lamps. Without his father around, she was frail, delicate, the flower her name suggested she was. He knew she was so much braver and stronger than this. She had put up with so much in her life, she just had to realize it. He squeezed her wrist firmly.

"Mum, Harry's prepared me for something like this for a long time. Me and Piers, we've been organizing for an escape ever since Harry returned from his second year and told us about Voldemort, but this isn't Voldemort, this is something else. Our plan still applies though. We find Harry, or one of the Wizards who know him."

Never before had he seen her look so confused. It was as though he was his father, and he had struck her.

"What…what are you talking about, I thought you hated Harry?"

"Hated him?" Dudley remembered how he had spluttered out the words, and how Piers had laughed. "Mum, he's my cousin! He's family! He's blood. There is a magical ward around our house that protects us from evil wizards because of him! How can I hate him?"

"Shit, Mrs. D. Seriously need to screw your head back on proper." Piers jumped over the fence of Mrs. Figg's house.

His mother simply opened the gate, eyeing Piers with a scowl. Dudley knocked a few times on the door. He had shaken his head to Piers when no reply came, and they had peered through the darkened windows. No one appeared home, so he slipped in the key and unlocked the door. As he ran through the instructions Harry had given him about using the floor network, he felt the horror of the situation finally settling in, and the trembles took over. His father was dead. People were eating people. What was going on?

No, he could get answers from the wizards. They would know something.

"Mrs. Figgs?" Piers had called out. "Yo! Old Lady Figgs?"

He heard his mother shout as cats scampered past them. Dudley had laughed as Jasper, a black cat, that he had always thought was a very witch-y cat, leapt up onto his shoulder and rubbed his cheek. "Your mother not home?"

The feline replied with a low purr.

"I see, well, she won't mind if we use her floo, will she?" He dragged his mother toward the fireplace and Piers studied the green power in a bowl nearby.

"You remember what Harry said, right?" Piers had snatched up some powder. "We have to go through, one at a time, and we have to say the words super, super clearly."

"Yeah." Dudley had looked at his mother. "Mum, you need to listen to me carefully. You have to take the powder, throw it into the fireplace, and say Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts. Very clearly. Watch Piers do it, okay."

Piers, ever the knight in cargo-pants, bounded toward the fireplace and threw the powder in with gusto, repeating the words and with a loud whoosh, he just vanished. Dudley shoved his mother in, handing over the bowl.

"I…I can't…I can't do this, Dudley."

"Mum!" He had gripped her wrist firmly, looking into her eyes, "Dad's dead. Don't die on me too, okay."

With a deep breath, she threw her handful of powder into the fireplace, vanishing along with the words she spoke. Her last cry was a cry of warning, and it was all he had to realize the sudden danger he was in. A hand snagged him from behind, the grip so strong he was barely able to twist himself out of it. The fabric of his shirt ripped, along with the skin on his shoulder and blood seeped down his back and chest.

Dudley fumbled back. The ebbing glow of the floo's green tinge caught the contours of Mrs. Figg's as she swaggered and swaged, her mouth open in a moan, putrid saliva, sinking of rotting flesh, dribbling down her chin. She had always been a woman of skin and bones, more frail than even his mother, walking around with her cane, smiling as she waved it at all the children who past her by.

She held no cane now, and there was no smile on her once cheerful face, void of its liveliness. He saw only a blank void remaining in grey, unblinking eyes. Arms that had once welcomed him with hugs now stretched out to him in a groping manner.

Dudley had covered his mouth. That faint stink of cat piss she'd always had in her clothes, that had usually put everyone off going near her, it had been replaced with a vile, awful scent of rot. With a scream he had turned tail and run, through the house, unwilling, back then, to kill what was already dead.

The cats had followed him, terrified, unsure of what to do.

Jasper got between his legs and he had tripped on the black-cat, falling on the kitchen floor.

He remembered the gripping panic, how it had caused him to go shock still, his limbs completely freezing as Mrs. Figg's came upon him, no longer the kindly old lady she had once been, but now some sort of vision he would have seen in a video game.

It was no game—it was reality—and he couldn't do anything to save himself.

Nothing.

Then the light had come, blitzing through the stale air, smelling like sugar. Magic. Magic had always smelt like sugar to him whenever Harry was around. Mrs. Figg's head just dropped away and her whole body flopped at his feet, revealing a figure dressed in black.

He had gazed up at the man standing over him, wand at the ready, sheer relief filling him enough that he felt tears trickle down his cheeks.

"Dudley Dursley, I presume?"

"Ye...yeah?" he had spluttered.

"I am Professor Severus Snape. Your mother was worried."  
And that—that had been how he had met the man Harry had always whinged about, but had secretly respected. The man that his mother had once known as a childhood friend. A man who could have been his uncle if history had been different. A man he rather liked.

And that—that was how his world had both ended and begun.

It had been an awful night, when he had lost his father, but sort of gained so much more in that loss. Harry's world had become his world, and whatever world Harry was now in, he hoped his cousin was not getting into too much trouble without him.

He sighed, dropping his hand away from the scars over his arms.

"You should be sleeping, Ley."

Smooth, like honey blended with milk, that was Severus Snape's voice. It was as comforting as a warm drink on a cold night, while he had a flu. The man might have been a terrifying spectre, but he was the only man who had ever known him how to act, to behave, like a proper gentleman. He supposed it was because now, he was in a world where young men were supposed to be gentlemen, like out of those weird historical books his mother and Harry used to read. Harry had loved them, but Harry had been an romantic, stuck in his world of heroes. He couldn't blame his cousin, not really.

"I'm just worried about Mum." Dudley shuffled about on the bed, making room for Severus as the man eased down on the rickety furniture. The dim light of the candle lit the contours of the man's sharp features, his crocked nose, pointed chin and thin lips, cast interesting shadows Dudley strangely admired. He could see what his mother respected in the man. He was stern, quiet and had a hidden strength veiled behind his slender and tall limbs—rather like his mother now that Dudley thought about it—rather like Harry too.

"She'll be fine. Charlie won't let anything happen to her."

"I know," Dudley murmured. He fitted himself into a ball, concealing his own warm.

Severus' sigh was so soft, he almost missed it.

Something thudded nearby, causing them both to tense. Dudley reached for is knife and Severus was on his feet. The candle died, plunging the tiny room into darkness.

The thudding continued. Dudley gripped his hilt of his knife tighter, narrowing his eyes at the door. The handle turned.

The door inched open.

He relaxed back into the bed as Charlie and his mother slipped into the room. Charlie carefully reset the door, waving his wand over it in a quick set of movements Dudley had come to understand were wards and alarms. Apparently the Weasley family were rather good with protective magic's—which was why he currently wore a stone around his neck, with a tiny rune carved into it. Bill Weasley had made them, adding a bit of his blood to each stone and while it was not as effective as the incredible clock he had once seen in the Weasley house that indicated the location of each family member, it still could be used to locate someone over a short distance.

He smiled weakly. The magical's worried a lot about misplacing him and his mother, it was nice—that they cared enough to bother but the Weasley's were very loyal, and they were Harry's family, and therefore, they were Weasley family too—or something like that.

"What's it like?" Severus whispered, relighting the candles.

Charlie searched around for their water, pouring it into a kettle, setting it on the small stove that he lit with a flick of his wand. "We're going to have to wait until morning, the Walkers are just too restless for us to make a move tonight."

"We managed to find some cans." Petunia knelt, pulling out of her bag a few cans of food. "It isn't much, but it will tide us over until we get back to Hogwarts."

"Is the package still safe?" Charlie added tea to his boiling water.

Dudley nodded quickly, his eyes briefly drawn to his back-pack tucked beside him on the bed. It was his job to protect the package. The whole reason why the four of them were out here.

Only he and his mother could access Harry's vault in the depths of Gringotts, and only Charlie Weasley could tame the dragon left rotting down there after the Goblins had up-and-left for the underworld of their mines to wait out the extinction of the Human race. Severus had come along because the man was by far the best killer amongst them, and someone had needed to protect them.

"We'll be fine." Severus wrapped his hand around Petunia's. "Just a few more apperation jumps and we'll be back at Hogwarts."

"If there is anything left by the time we get there…" Dudley grumbled.

"There will be," Charlie assured, "Hogwarts has never fallen before."

"This is different though." Dudley squeezed his eyes shut. "If we die, we turn. Anyone in Hogwarts can…just…" He shivered. "And the Death Eaters are just being so persistent."

Severus rubbed at his covered arm. Dudley pressed his lips together. The ugly tattoo that marred the man's pale flesh still pained him. It worried Professor Dumbledore, making him think that perhaps Voldemort was still lurking about and there was nothing they could do in the ruins of civilization. Both mundane and magical were collapsing, Voldemort's powerful influence was wanning when he had no body, and his Death Eaters were left with very little to desire rulership over.

As far as Dudley could tell, they just wanted Hogwarts because it was a safe place. The Weasley family had not been the only family that had fled there when things had started to go crazy in the magical world, a lot of magical families had uprooted themselves had headed to the ancient castle. It was now not being a place of learning, but a place of refuge, like a proper castle. Its walls finally doing what they had been created to do—to keep evil out.

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Morning came with a grey, murky light that bled through windows covered in newspaper. Tiny flecks of dust danced in the chilled air that breathed through the cracks in the door and wooden panels of the walls. Dudley curled deeper into his jackets collar as he burrowed his feet into his shoes. Severus and Charlie stood at the door already, speaking in soft, hushed tones, they must not have wanted to make his mother worry about the day ahead. They had a fair distance to cover.

The problem with apperating was that it could be tracked by the Death Eaters who had likely gained some foothold in the Ministry since the collapse of the mundane civilization. They had to be careful not to bring unwanted attention on themselves now that incredibly dangerous wizards and witches were free from Azkaban. Sure, they weren't the Dark Lord, but from what Severus had told him, they were pretty scary in their own right.

Standing he shouldered his pack, wiggling it about until it found a comfortable position.

He could feel his mother's gaze and ignored it. She was worried. He wished she would worry more about herself than she worried about him.

"You finished?" Charlie inquired.

Dudley nodded.

"Good. Stick close to Severus. Petunia, remember what I taught you the other night. If you get grabbed, twist and yank, okay. They may be strong, but they are rotting."

"I know." She took up her baseball bat. Dudley repressed the shutter that threatened to spread through him. The world had changed so much that now his mother was required to carry a makeshift weapon. If only Harry was here to see such a strange sight.

Charlie carefully opened the door, and one by one, they crept out into the brisk morning air. No matter how often he encountered it, the stretch of rot, it never became normal. It caught in his throat, always making him wanting to gag on how disgusting it was, and how it tainted even beautiful mornings like this one.

A few Walkers ambled down the small village street.

"Not enough to cast a concealment charm, you think?" Charlie murmured to Severus.

"I don't want to risk it. It will drain our magical cores if we keep the charm up to long and we have no idea what's ahead of us today. If we keep quiet enough, we should be able to pass them by." Severus assured Petunia forward, and she heaved herself over some crates, climbing up onto a wall.

"It's clear," she called back.

Charlie joined her and they leapt down. Dudley sighed. This was the part he rather hated about his life now, the clambering about in the shadows—feeling like he was just waiting for something to come out and kill him. If it wasn't other Muggles, it was wizards, or the undead. Something was always lurking, waiting, wanting to gut him.

The going was slow, leaving him with a lot of time to think. Thinking—he seemed to do so much of that now days. Thinking, reading, learning, more thinking. His thoughts so often tumbled about, getting lost in Harry's green eyes, and his cousins soft voice, echoing back at him, telling him his world could so easily shatter around him.

How true his cousin had been.

He just doubted Harry had actually meant this—world—this world of the undead—when they had sat up late at night, contemplating life together, Harry nursing his battered body, and him feeling so guilty for being unable to do anything to stop it.

He sighed, pausing at a set of stairs down into an alley. He swiped away sweat.

"Wherever you are now, Harry, I hope you're doing better than I am."

Crawling around the streets of deserted little Scottish town was not what he had envisioned for his future, at all. Despite the cold mist, almost a rain, that sat heavy in the air, he felt hot under his coat. Trotting down the stairs he blinked through the fog, wondering why he could no longer see Charlie and his mother.

The apperation point was no too far ahead now. It was in some little pokey store that had once been a bakery. His stomach grumbled and he poked at it in annoyance. Right now was not the time to be wishing for a cake. Mind drifting to the delights of being back in the warm, comforting halls of Hogwarts, Dudley rested a hand on the doorframe of the bakery.

"Dudley!" Charlie shouted. "Don't!"

Dudley snapped around. Standing on a roof some distance from him, Charlie was waving his hands. What the fudge—why was Charlie up there? His eyes widened, all breath sucked out of his lungs as he gradually craned his neck back toward the entrance.

Walkers.

Walkers. So many. Walkers. They all swung in his direction, their foul, rancid faces dribbling with decay. Glass shattered as the window panels of the small shop burst, the undead piling out into the small street.

His feet froze. He had no were to go. His knife felt like a useless twig in his grip.

A Walker dove for him.

He moved, his leg twisting back as he set himself low, just as Blaise had taught him as he shoved his full weight into the knife thrust. Slamming the blade into the jaw of the Walker he ignored the brown, gunky blood that stained his hand and wrist as he wrenched it out and threw the body aside.

"Come and get it, you stinking pond scum."

Gurgles where the only reply he gained, but limp, waggling bodies thrust his way and he struggled against the onslaught, shrieking when his foot caught on a cobbled stone and he fell backward. His knife slipped loose as he caught himself on his hands. He watched it fly away between the legs of the Walkers crowding around him. Bouncing onto his feet Dudley ignored his tears, fisting his hands.

"Fine. I'll box you all to death then."

The cracking sound of apperation popped his ears and he felt a hand snag him from behind. Severus' scent of hot spice engulfed him as he was pulled against the tall man, spats of light ignited the tight street. He buried his head into Severus' chest, curling away from the sweet taste of magic, boiling the air, mixing with rotten blood. Finally, the lights stopped flashing, the noise ebbed away, and he sensed Severus' arm slacken as the man pulled away.

"Are you alright," Severus crouched, checking him over, "did they bite you?"

"No," he shuttered out a breath, trying to steady himself against the man, "no, no, I'm okay. I just slipped and lost my knife. Blaise is going to be so angry at me. He's tried so hard to teach me…"

"Unlikely. He will be proud you kept your composure."

Severus coiled his wand. " _Accio_ , Dudley's blade."

His knife gently drifted out from under a twitching Walker and into Severus' free hand. The professor handed it to him. Dudley smiled, gripping the hilt.

"Thanks, sir."

"Come along, Ley. Your mother will be worried."

Carefully they stepped through the mass of mangled bodies. Dudley repressed his shutter, glad that the professor had never had the means to let lose his magic on actual alive people.

They dashed down, through the tight, winding streets, out into a larger alley. Dudley breathed easier. The rain had grown heavier, but at least it was washing away the blood on his jacket. He spotted Charlie leaping down from the roof of a building, followed by his mother. He wished he could have laughed at the sight his mother made, but laughter was just so difficult to manage these days.

Still, he wondered why they had ended up on the roof. Then again, Charlie did have a habit of finding high spots to get away from Walkers, being a Dragon handler and all that.

"Mum." Dudley dashed for her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

She sobbed softly into his hair.

"Are you bitten?"

"No." He pulled away. "It's just Walker blood, nothing serious."

By the look Charlie gave him, he knew his dismissal of the situation was hardly helping. He tried to jostle out of his mother's grip and she finally released him.

"Well, that apperation point is compromised." Charlie scratched his neck. "What do we do now? That was the last one in this area."

"We're just going to have to risk the Ministry learning we've been out here." Severus murmured, his hand rubbing his arm. "I've apperated anyway to reach Dudley. We're compromised as it is."

Charlie ticked his tongue. "Damn."

"Do you honestly think we're in that much danger?" Petunia whispered.

Severus urged them further down the street, away from a Walker ambling out of a house. "We have no idea who is for us, or against us at the moment. We must protect ourselves. That is all that matters. Charlie, take Petunia. I'll follow with Dudley."

Charlie offered his hand to Petunia. She took it. She glanced back at Severus with a small smile that vanished, replaced with a scream.

"Severus! Watch out!"

Severus twisted about at the voice shouted out down the path. Dudley caught the brief look of horror on Charlie's face just before he vanished in a swell of his disapperation. His shoulder was seized and he was yanked alongside Severus, through the swirling pull of the magical transportation. They both came out the other side in a stagger, nowhere near Hogwarts front gate. Severus threw him to one side and Dudley skidded through mud and grass, obeying the unspoken order to run as another wizard appeared with a crack.

Merlin. Dudley choked. It was Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy had found them. Enraged eyes behind a veil of white hair locked on him. The first spell sent his way was blasted back by the ward stemming from the protective amulet he wore. The second bounced off a shield Severus threw up over him, the third he had to dodge himself, rolling across the grass. He cursed as he hit a tree root. It was moments just like these when he wished, he really, really wished he was born a wizard.

Severus' cloak swept about him as the man blocked another flung curse. Dudley watched Lucius stagger back at the force.

Heaving onto his feet, Dudley clung to Severus' belt.

"He tracked us?" he whispered.

"It is likely apperating to save you triggered my Dark Mark, he could have simply been in the same area and sensed it."

"I'm sorry."  
"Don't be. It would eventually have transpired."

"Severus! The Dark Lord will come for you!"

"Then why isn't he here, Lucius." Severus barked back. "Is he cowering from the undead because he fears death—"

"It is you who cowers in your precious castle."

Dudley cringed back against Severus as another splattering of curses and jinx's scattered the ground around them. He felt the potions master grip him tighter in a shielding grasp, his body a shield against the raging magic.

"I think your lord is dead," Severus flicked his wand, red light shattered the soil between the two wizards, "and you are a coward who killed his own wife!"

The scream of rage came with a blast that rocked them both back. Dudley trundled across the mud, his back-pack catching his fall. Blood leaked from cuts over his shoulders. He staggered on his feet, wiping off mud from his face, blinking at the dashes of light from the wand battle still raging.

Severus had taken the full force of the spell, and it was obvious, he was bent over, his robes sliced, blood oozing from wounds but still he stood, like a rook on a chessboard, unmoving and proud. Dudley scrambled for his back-pack. Severus was not going to last long—not now. The cold, bare skin of his trembling hands encountered the bandaged surface of the precious package and a jolt passed through him. His eyes widened. Magic.

Severus' wand spat out curses in swift succession. Dudley shielded his eyes from the bursts of light, catching the ward the wizard blocking their path had erected.

"Lucius, back down, now!" Severus shouted. "Don't make me kill you."

"You will die here, traitor!" Lucius' laugh was manic.

Tugging out the package from his back-pack, Dudley peeled away the bandages covering it and gripped its hilt. Whatever it was that urged him to run forward, it was not his own courage, it had to be something that possessed him—surely—for he would never have dashed into the heat of a wizard battle toward a wizard as dangerous as Lucius Malfoy. Harry would have screamed holy-hell at him for hours for the stupidity.

But he did, and the shock on Lucius Malfoy's face was almost worth it as he landed squarely at the man's feet and drove the blade he held into the soft soil.

Light burst forth, surging from the blade, shattering the earth under the Death Eaters feet and igniting in a bright burn. Dudley watched in horror as the man began to disperse, like the light was shattering him into pieces. It took barely moments, and suddenly it was over. He was lying in the mud, trembling in horror.

Had he just killed Lucius Malfoy?

Tugging the blade free with a slurp Dudley crawled onto his knees and started at the weapon in his trembling hands, watching as filaments of glittering light leaking from the rivets in the metal gradually faded away. Mud that still clung to it cracked off, breaking into the air to drift away in the chilled breeze of the morning.

"Wh…what…what did I do?"

Severus' fingers dug into the muddy soil, he slid back in pain, a hiss escaping his lips as blood slopped free of the slice marring his chest. With a grunt he heaved himself onto his feet, clutching at his side, eyes upon the smoking ring in scarred into the grass and mud.

"I believe you just sent Mr. Malfoy to some unknown region upon Earth."

"Wh…what?" Dudley almost dropped the blade.

"The Potter's Family magic's were in portkey's and apperation. That blade you hold would, perhaps be called a Dark Artefact, due to its ability to act as a borderless, limitless portkey. One need only key in the wizard they desire to locate, or the destination."

Dudley stared down at the blade in growing horror. "Oh my gosh." No wonder it had been locked away in the Potter vault. "It's an assassin's blade. The Potter's…they're…they're assassins! Harry's an assassin! Shit! Shit! Shit! Harry's an assassin. No wonder Dumbledore wanted him to kill Voldemort. Shit. Shit."

"Ley! Language, please."

"Sorry, sorry!"

"But yes, you are correct. The Potter's were once a family of assassins. For Merlins sake, don't tell anyone I told you. Dumbledore would kill me. I only know because of Lily." Severus collapsed against a tree, pulling his hand back from his wound. The blood only seemed to get worse. Dudley ran for his pack, gathering it up and pulling it open, searching for his medical kit.

"But I didn't key in a location."

"Indeed." Severus swayed on his feet. Dudley caught him, staggering under the weight on the professor. "There is no telling where Mr. Malfoy ended up."

"I didn't mean too!"

"It's fine, Ley." Severus removed his shirt with a single, painful tug and Dudley slapped a patch on the bleeding slice clean through his pale skin, ignoring the shout of pain from the man. He began strapping with the bandage.

"Can I use it to get us back to Hogwarts? Madam Pomfrey is going to have a field day with you." Dudley pulled away, admiring his work. He was getting pretty good at quick first-aid. "Mum has all your potions."

Severus shook his head. "I do not want Dumbledore knowing we found it yet, keep it on you. Take my hand, I think I can get us outside the gates."

"Okay." Stashing the Potter-Blade back into his pack, Dudley swung it over his shoulder, seizing Severus' bloodied hand. He waited for the crack of disapperation, it seized his stomach in a lurch, pulling him through a tiny pinhole before he landed with a stagger outside the gates of Hogwarts. Relieved shouts echoed in his ears and he turned, watching Bill and Charlie race down the path toward them.

"Bill! Charlie!" He waved, bouncing on his heels.

"Thank the Lady!" Charlie skidded in the mud, panting heavily. "What happened?! One minute everything was fine, the next you guys didn't follow us! Your mother is frantic."

Dudley relaxed as Bill heaved Severus onto his shoulder, letting the man collapse against him, taking his full weight.

"We got caught by Lucius Malfoy," Dudley waved his bloodied arms about, "Severus chased him off though. He got in a few shots, we have to get Severus to Madam Pomfrey."

"That's a given." Bill shook his head. "You okay, Professor?"

"I will be." Severus grumbled.

"The package, is it safe?" Charlie whispered.

Dudley glanced down the path toward Hogwarts, noticing his mother and Dumbledore were heading towards them, followed closely by Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Looking between Bill and Charlie he nodded quickly, not daring to use his voice less it was carried the distance. As a Muggle, he had so little protection against the great Headmaster, but that was why Severus trusted him—because Dumbledore would never suspect a Muggle like him would ever know so much about magic. The headmaster had been so baffled when Piers and his mother had landed in his office that fateful day, according to Piers he had never seen anything so hilarious as the old man's confounded expression upon seeing Petunia Dursley in his office.

Dudley squared his shoulders against the weight of the Potter-Blade in his back-pack. It was his honor, as Harry's cousin, to bear the burden of such an artefact.

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 _Some folk might wonder about House Elves, other magical creatures etc. etc. – hopefully that will be explained in coming chapters. ^^_

 _My next upload may come a little late as I am going away without internet to do a half-marathon that I've been training almost all year for. It's going to be incredibly painful, but I've wanted to prove to myself that despite my illness I can achieve something I've dreamed of achieving. :D_

 _So yeah. Maybe mid-next week and not on the weekend._

 _Hope you're all keeping well,_

 _Cheers,_

 _KL_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey folks! Sorry this is a later update. I just got back yesterday from the half-marathon and still recovering. It went well. Sorta. If you want to know more, you're welcome to pop over to my website ' ' – won't bore you with details here.  
You're here for a story! Right. XD_

 _Hope you're all doing well,_

 _Cheers!_

 _Kylie_

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 **Chapter Eight**

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Magical World Mythology world-building Stuff:

(So no one gets to confused)

 **Morgan Le Fay / Morgana** \- (Same person, different name – depending on situation, _Morgana_ is shorter to say XD )

The revered enchantress – _dark magic affiliation._

 **Merlin** –

The revered druid/warlock – _grey magic affiliation._

 **Nimue / Lady of the Lake (or just the Lady) –**

Ruler of Avalon – _light magic affiliation._

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Morning light broke through the thin windows of C-Block. Draco wiped back his hair, studying the dull glow from his top bunk. His limbs still felt heavy, weighted like iron rods, held down by shackles, amusing, considering he was in a prison. The night had been a long and draining one at the side of Ronald Weasley. He could still feel the blood soaked into his skin, it had just refused to come out from under his fingernails no matter how long he had scrubbed.

Draco breathed in, closing his eyes, settling his cool hand over his hot forehead. Thank _Morgan Le Fay_ , _Merlin_ and the _Lady_ the Weasel had made it through the night. Now his next huge problem was getting those stupid automobiles into the courtyard so he could unpack all his potions equipment and resupply the potions he had burned through. He sighed. Luna's family heirloom had been the greatest blessing—and his greatest curse—had he known about it when they had been in school, he might have just asked his father to send the Lovegood a marriage contract for the simple hope of winning the heirloom.

But now—

Now—

He was free to use it as a _friend_.

"Uncle Severus, you would be _so_ proud of me..." Draco rolled around, flopping an arm over the side of the bunk. A few hours of sleep still felt like a luxury, and on a bed, as uncomfortable as the one he lay on was, it had a mattress with springs. He snorted. How far he had come from his pristine silk sheets, smooth to his baby-skin that had never known a blemish. Now his hands felt rough, scars littered his arms, and lumpy beds with prickly blankets felt like heaven.

Draco sluggishly gazed at the scene below him. It made him smile, tickling a vacant part within him he had thought would never again fell warm, not since his mother's death. He was so unbelievably glad that Sam and Skye had, last minute, piled into his little cell and taken over the floor. He had a feeling that Skye was pretty astute when it came to people and saw his abhorrent thought of having to either sleep alone or with Hermione and Beth—it was either them, or the Twins, and hell would freeze over before he ever, ever bunked alone with the Twins and found his hair bright pink in the morning.

Hermione had stayed vigil by Ron's side all night, and he had a sinking feeling Hershel would not had appreciated him alone with Beth, considering she was only a year older than he was, and he had learnt rather quickly that Hershel was what Sirius would have called 'old-fashioned'. He actually rather liked Hershel's old-fashioned, no nonsense way, it reminded him of his mother.

And yet, he had not wanted to sleep alone. It had been so long since he had been alone. The very idea terrified him to the core. He had almost been tempted to just pick his gear up and head into Hershel's cell, or bother Daryl with another kid, or hell—he would have actually gone and asked Rick if he could bunk with Carl, if Lori had not been so, well, over-bearing. Gosh. That woman was more terrifying than the Weasley Matron.

Maybe—maybe he could ask Skye to ask Rick if Carl could bunk with him from now on. Yes. Maybe that was possible. Carl was easy to get along with. Maybe that way he could start teaching Carl a few things about potions. Muggles could actually do potions if they had the right mind-set for it and Carl already had the curiosity of a cat.

He heard a sudden squeak and Sam was out of her rolls of blankets, running from the cell.

Skye heaved himself up, bedraggled hair a crazy mop. Draco hung further over the edge of the bunk.

"Morning sickness again? I had no idea it could get this bad."

Skye's knees jiggled anxiously. "It can get quite bad for some women. It can put them in hospital. However," he managed a haggard smile, "women have been doing this for thousands of years Draco, long before modern technology came along. She'll be fine."

A foul twisting of his stomach caused a sweat to break out, and Draco wiped his brow. "I'll see what some of our potion books say, I'm sure that there has to be something that we can do."

"You're very kind lad."

"You didn't know me before."

"We all have our pasts. They shape us into our futures. So, big day today?" The man began pulling back the sleeping bags that had nestled him and Draco did the same, swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk. He stretched, yawning. He could smell the beginning of breakfast and wondered if Harry was up and about yet, or if Carol was taking over from him. He sorely hoped Harry was still in bed. Stupid idiot, using his wandless magic so recklessly—but—then again, if he hadn't, he would probably be dead.

Still, a part of him seethed inside. Harry risked serious nerve damage. Just another thing for him to work out in his long list as their healer.

"Yes," Draco sighed, "a big day."

"This teleportation…thing…you're attempting with the cars; it is different from apperation?"

"It is. Apperation deals with moving yourself, and perhaps a few other people. Teleportation is a skill in Runes, where you are physically shifting objects from one space to another. I have heard of some Wizards moving whole houses." Draco waved his hands about. He watched as Skye stood, pulling on a pair of slightly cleaner pants. Sam strolled back in, some colour had returned to her cheeks, but a layer of sweat soaked her cheeks.

"The Weasley Twins, their older brother, Bill Weasley, he was a Curse Breaker for Gringotts Bank and knew so much about Runes." Draco gushed, "He was amazing with his teleportation circles. I read all of his articles."

"You're quite the academic," Skye praised.

Draco beamed. "Well, Hermione Granger might be the smartest which of our age, but I'm up for smartest wizard." He hopped down from the top bunk. "Best go check on Harry and Ron."

His hair was ruffled by the tall man. Once he would have protested against the treatment, thought it demeaning for a Malfoy to be treated thus, but not now, now it caused his toes to curl and heat to touch his cheeks. Smiling shyly, like no Malfoy ever would, he left the couple to their morning snuggles.

Sure enough, he found Lori and Carol around the indoor cooking area with Hermione working the magic fire, lost in conversation with Carl about how the hearth worked just encase none of them where around to get it going. He ducked his head into Daryl's cell. The man was helping Luna down from the top bunk.

"Harry still sleeping?"

Daryl nodded as he set Luna down. Slipping in Draco knelt beside the bottom bunk, running a quick diagnostic charm. Harry's breathing was less erratic than it had been the day before, revealing far more stability. The Skele-gro had aided in repatching his broken rib overnight. Draco's wiggled his tense shoulders. So far, so good.

"How is his arm?" It was Hershel.

He had not expected the elderly gentleman to disturb them. Daryl simply shoved past, with Luna in tow, leaving them be. Draco raised both eyebrows as Hershel and Beth entered. He smiled in greeting, tipping his head in a slight bow toward Beth.

His mother had always told him to be honourable toward ladies, and Beth was most assuredly a lady.

"The nerve damage was minimal. It'll likely tingle for a few days, but he'll recover. He always does."

He sat back on his heels, studying the face of the Boy-Who-Lived, peaceful in his slumber. So much younger looking when he slept, Harry had an innocence about him that hid a burning cauldron few could see. Draco hesitantly reached out, brushing aside a lock of stray, curly hair from Harry's forehead, revealing the legendary scar. What his father would have given to have sat where he now was, so close to the boy who had dared defy a Dark Lord without remembering having done so.

"We'll survive, Harry," he whispered. "Just stop being such a Gryffindor."

His knees creaked as he stood, making him wince. A few more hours' sleep would have been glorious but duty was calling. Beth lingered at the entrance, eyes on Harry.

"Should someone stay with him?"

Draco shook his head. "He'll be fine, one of my charms will go off if anything happens. Honestly, don't worry," he tried his best, most assuring smile. It likely looked deceiving. Hermione often told him he could not smile fake smiles like Harry—at least she had then told him he had a nice real smile when he did let it slip.

"He just looks so…small…and…well…" She wringed her hands.

"Don't be fooled," Draco headed in the direction of the cell they were using as the current medical bay, "Harry Potter has a lion hidden in him."

The sight that met him was still alarming, even after he had spent a considerable amount of the night within the tight space. Ron on the bed, bandaged up shoulder stained with blood. Draco wet his dry lips. The air was heavy with the scent of magic and potions, reminding him of all the trips he had taken to St. Mungo's with his mother, and the hours he had spent wandering those halls, entranced by the sights, drinking in the amazing wonders of magical healing and learning the horrifying truth in the end, of just want it could not achieve.

His heart sunk lower. It was the bitter pill he had to swallow. He could not regrow Ron's arm, no magic could regrow a limb. He could regrow the bone in the limb, but not the limb itself.

Breathing in deeply, Draco turned his attention to the curled up girl by the bunk. She may as well have been petrified again, the way she sat, unmoving, barely breathing, head hidden in her knees. It looked painfully uncomfortable, but if there was one thing he knew about Hermione Granger, it was her endurance, it was a quality he admired in her greatly.

"Hey, Hermione."

She stirred, just barely, rubbing at her puffy eyes. Draco knelt beside her, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "Please tell me you got some sleep?"

"A bit," she murmured.

"Well, I want you to go and get some breakfast. Beth here is going to take over watching Ron. We've got a big day today."

She sagged against him, a slight tremble shaking her shoulders. Fingernails curled into his shirt. Draco closed his eyes, enduring the touch. Ron was lucky. He hoped Ron knew just how lucky he was to have such a—

Draco crinkled his nose, forcing his mind to go blank. Not the time. It was never the time. He had to wrap his heart in a trunk, throw away the key, and heal people, that was his job.

Hermione nodded against his chest. "Yes, yes, you're right."  
"I'm always right." Draco stood, heaving her up with his own weight. Hershel took her under his arm and lead her out of the cell. Draco scrubbed the back of his neck, shifting his attention to Ron upon the bed. He had never thought it possible for the Weasel to look paler than his already pale skin, but there he lay, a sickly, ghostly pale that gutted him. The stub that had once been his arm was wrapped in bandages, his other arm hung loosely in a handcuff. It had been a precaution Rick had insisted on. None of them knew if Harry's quick thinking of cutting off a limb would work—would Ron still turn?

Who knew?

Well, apparently he hadn't.

But then there was still the possibility that he might die. Limb removal like this, it was drastic, and it was not entirely done surrounded by medical personnel.

" _Merlin_ , Harry, you don't do things half arsed," Draco muttered.

"I don't think that's needed anymore," Rick drew his attention and Draco looked up at the man hovering by the cell's entrance.

"You mean the handcuffs?"

"Yeah." Rick entered, handing over the keys.

"If you're sure." Draco carefully unlocked the handcuffs, passing them back to the overlording man who always liked to hover about, watching with his keen, piercing eyes.

"You don't think he'll be a danger?" Rick was asking for his opinion, how odd, an adult actually asking the opinion of a teenager.

Draco frowned, slightly thrown. He had expected Rick to go to Hershel for this whole—medical advice bit—but then again, he supposed he was the expert in magical healing, as hilarious as that was, and he had proven to the leader of their group that he was capable.

He tugged at his hair. "I don't think so. He's not going to die, his magic's already started to kick back in. We're so lucky Ron barely used a few spells while breaking into this place or this would be another story all together. He hadn't depleted his magical core so…I could pump him full of potions and get away with it." He tapped the makeshift IV-drip hanging from the bunk. "Now it's just a case of waiting to see if he wakes up."

"What if he doesn't?" Beth's hands were clasped tightly in front of her.

Draco swallowed a gulp. "Then I've lost him. I'm not a…a… mind healer. I can't perform that art, even if I tried, I'd likely kill myself in the process." He looked back at Ron. It was wrong, to see the sturdy, strong Gryffindor weakened and frail. Ron was fire and fury, a mountain mover, and under all that, a kind soul who loved far too easily until it broke him.

"Survive, Ron," Draco rested his hand gently upon his friend's chest, "you're the burning hearth that keeps our world warm."

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Strange scents assaulted Harry upon stirring into wakefulness, oil like that from a motor, but overwhelmed by the thick freshness of crunched pine needles under heavy boots that he had come to equate with Daryl. His fingers twitched against the rough mattress. Luna. The sweetness of her flowery fragrance, it just coated the edges of the darkness as well. A part of his mind did not want to open his eyes, to be assaulted with the reality of the world beyond his mind.

He wanted to remain floating in the forever darkness.

Yet, through no will of his own, his eyes dared to flutter open, and dim, grey light filled the void. His limbs where sluggish, he had to heave on them to move. Sitting up, he was grateful his head spun for a moment, giving him a moments pause, before settling as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring around the small cell.

"Prison. Right," Harry muttered, "Dudley would be really amused." He smiled, thinking of his cousin. Despite what his friends thought, he had actually gotten along with Dudley rather well, it had been his Aunt and Uncle who had been the issue. Dudley had tried everything in his youthful power to help. He sort of wished—

Harry shook his head.

It was no use to dwell on the past. Not right now, while his mind was in this sort of state.

His eyes drifted around the cell. Grey, bland walls, already covered in chalk drawings. Luna had been busy then, so had Daryl. It was easy to see that Daryl and Luna had already made it a home of sorts, with Daryl's poncho hanging on the bunk, his pack nearby. Luna had started making curtains by the looks of it, all in the appearance of the pine forests. A little laugh bubbled out of him. So typical of Luna, trying to make a home the moment she could.

A lump formed in his throat as he spotted his own bags neatly set to one side, along with his clothes. He reached for the pile, burrowing his nose into the clothing. They had been washed. He curled his nose at the delightful smell of fabric softener. Carol, no doubt, had been busy. Tears clung to the edges of his cheeks. He blinked them away, catching sight of something else set aside with his gear.

The leather gauntlets Daryl had been crafting the night prior.

His hands trembled as he reached for them. So intricately made. He would have never guessed Daryl was so skilled, and a pit formed in his stomach. Did everyone else misjudge the man too?

"Hello Harry."

He startled, jerking toward Luna. She stood at the entrance of the cell, smiling in her whimsical manner.

"Good morning Luna."

"Good morning!"

"How late am I to the party."

"You've only over slept a few hours. Draco and Hermione are still setting up the Rune Circle in the courtyard. You've woken up just in time for the show."

Well, at least he had healed up. Carefully he tugged on his shirt and sat back on the bunk, studying the gauntlets. What where they for?

"Daryl made them for you."  
"Yeah, I know."

"He hopes they'll help your wandless magic." Luna skipped into the cell.

Harry squeezed his right hand. The skin felt tight still, and there was an echo of numbness right up his arm. It would be doubtful he could use it for much for a few days. "Why…how?"

Luna held out her hand in offer and he slowly let her take his arm. She ran her fingers along the few visible blue veins under the skin. Harry shivered. Her touch was soft, despite the roughness of her worn fingers.

There was no airy quality to her voice either, just a soft, gentle tenor.

"The reason why magical folk used wands and staffs began because it was easier to channel the energy through something rather than use our bodies as a conduit. It was also safer. The wand acted as discharge device."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He had never thought it possible for Luna to sound like Hermione.

"The magic would flow up and out of our bodies and burst out through the wand, it would not damage our bodies through the process. With wandless magic, the energy builds up and when we discharge it, that backlash does damage. I told this to Daryl. He thought that perhaps, because he caught the deer that made the leather, tanned it himself and made the gauntlet himself, that maybe it will absorb the backlash." She rolled up her sleeves to reveal her own set.

A picture of the man, leaping down the stairs to save him, came to mind. Harry breathed out a nervous breath. He should do something, to say thank you. "He's really smart. I would never have thought of that. Ever."

Luna curled a finger through her hair. "I know. He never finished his schooling, but like us, he's quite adaptable. You would have thought of it, Harry, but you would have just taken a different approach. You've learnt how to think like that too. Like a survivor."

Clutching his arms to his chest, feeling an odd warmth growing within, Harry whispered, "Why would anyone do that for me?"

"The question is more, why wouldn't they?" Luna hugged him tightly and he relaxed into her arms, smiling into her neck. There was something lovely about a hug that was freely given. "You deserve good things, Harry. Come on, Carol's made you brunch. We can eat it out in the courtyard. I am sure Hermione would love to show off! Also, Rick and Sirius are having another argument."

"Great." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes," Luna giggled, "it's wonderfully thrilling."

By the time they found Carol, Harry had a feeling his stomach was doing its best impression of being a Biter and eating its way out of his belly. Thankfully she passed him a few day old bun, stuffed with some canned meat—he tried not to think on what type of meat it was.

Trailing after Luna he followed her through the cleared out corridors. The men appeared to have been busy that morning, for no Biter's bodies remained, and he hoped they had returned for T-Dog. He still remained on high alert though, recalling Daryl's words to mind.

There was a breach somewhere, deeper into the prison. Biter's where getting in somewhere, somehow. Reaching the final door, Luna shoved it open into the courtyard and fresh air rushed past him, filling his lungs with the freedom of the outdoors. The taste of spring surrounded him, curling the hairs on the nape of his neck. The courtyard was a buzz of activity. Glenn and Maggie where piling up Biter bodies. Daryl and Skye where trying, without much luck it seemed, to quell the argument between Rick and Sirius. Further beyond that, Harry smiled at the sight of Draco, Hermione and the Twins busily scrawling out a teleportation Rune circle onto the concreate. It almost felt as though he was watching a school project.

Leaping down a set of stairs he wandered his way toward them. Carl jogged up, wiping sweat off his brow. "Hi Harry, feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am. Thanks."

"This Rune stuff is amazing! I wish I could have gone to your school to learn it." There was such earnest adoration in Carl's words that Harry felt a twang of regret. He took his magic for granted and had stopped seeing the magical wonder of it a long time ago, but Muggles like Carl, they pulled the wool off his eyes and reminded him just how dazzling it really was.

"Glad you're enjoying the show."

"Oh, I am. Hermione is a great teacher."

Harry nibbled on his bread roll. Hermione would have made an amazing teacher; it was nice to see she was getting a chance to shine. He waved to the group vigorously.

"Well, aren't you guys glad I found that chalk now!"

Hermione spun about, making her skirt frill out. She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. "Oh, Harry! Harry! I was so worried."

"I'm fine," he murmured into her neck, squeezing her just as tightly. Her hugs would never get old. "I'm just glad you're okay."

She pulled back slightly, tears shining in the corners of her eyes. He reached out, brushing them aside and she bent into his hands. "I'm so sorry about Ron," he choked.

Hermione burrowed her head into his chest. "Don't be stupid, Harry, he's alive because you made the right decision."

"She's right, Harry." Draco's hand seized his shoulder. "Quick thinking on your part."

"I don't know where it came from." Harry scrubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I was processing things rather quickly at the time."

"You always do shine under pressure, Harrykins." Fred ruffled his hair suddenly.

"Yah," George flounced a hand about, "maybe we should just throw you at a pile of Biters and see if you explode. Might take them out for us."

Harry stepped back. "No thank you, had enough fun yesterday fighting off half a dozen of them, I don't explode, I can assure you of that. But you should see Daryl move, he's incredible."

All eyes shifted to the argument of the adults nearby. Carl clapped a hand over his forehead, groaning loudly. "My Dad is not going to back down about this one."

"I doubt Sirius will either," Draco huffed. "Come on, you lot, let's finish these Runes. I really want to set up my potions lab, I'm out of Blood Replenishing potions and I bet I'm going to need more soon. Who knows when Harry will decide to lop off someone's limb next."

Harry pouted. "Funny, Draco, real funny."

Draco flashed him a charming smile. "I'm so talented, I know."

Harry swiped at him, only for his friend to dodge aside and skip away. Huffing Harry left them to their work. The argument between Rick and Sirius was not coming to blows, which was comforting, but it was terribly loud. Harry climbed over a few crates, coming to sit beside Daryl, standing a few meters away from the two men. Skye was leaning on a wall, flipping his knife in the air, looking incredibly bored at the sight.

"What's their problem?" Harry piped.

Daryl yawned. "Rick want's Sirius to stay behind to look after C-Block while we all go down to clear out the rest of the prison and find the breach."

"Ohhh…" Harry flopped his legs about. "I see."

"Feeling better?" Skye leant against the crates.

Harry brushed back his hair, glancing to the sky. It was a surprisingly warm day. "My arm's still numb, but I bounce back." He flashed a brief grin.

"Kids, you're so squishy. Wish I was young again." Skye groaned, rubbing his side. "I got aches in places I never knew could ache."

Harry wiggled his eyebrows. "I thought that's what your wife was for."

Daryl slapped him firmly over the head. "Shut your mouth."

"Hey!" Harry rubbed his head.

"Shut it."

"You're not my father."

"Do I look like I fucking care? Don speak about women that way, ever."

"Okay, okay." Harry held up his hands. "Okay. Yes, Pops."

He ducked away from the second playful swipe, laughing as he scrambled to hide behind Skye's bulk.

Daryl stepped suddenly to one side as Rick stormed past. Harry suppressed a squeak as Sirius' shouted.

"Fine! Fine! We'll do it your way."

Rick kept marching, ignoring the bellow from Sirius.

Daryl blew back his hair. "Yeh best go warn Lori that Rick's coming in hot, Skye. Don want her facing him like that. She's got enough tah worry about, been about tah pop."

Skye saluted. "Will do…Pops."

"Fuck off!"

Like he was a wraith made of shadows, Skye promptly vanished. Harry blinked rapidly through his glasses. Honestly, was that man magic? "He's got to be a ninja or something cool like that…" Harry grinned. "Yeah. A _ninja_."

"Don't be stupid." Daryl held out his hands and Harry heaved off the crates, caught in the hunter's arms. He was set down like a feather, and his hair ruffled.

"But he's like one of my cousin's comic book characters, being all mysterious and swoopy, and his wife is from Japan. Maybe Sam's a ninja too?"

"He's secret-services. Yeh idiot. So secret his wife don even know. Sam's under the impression he was a lazy bum who never left the country."

Harry pouted. "Is this another one those…you…have conversations with people and you find things out about them, situations? Like with T-Dog?"

Daryl shrugged.

"You're shitting with me, aren't you?" Harry punched Daryl firmly in the arm. "You are. Oh my gosh, you're making this all up!"

The hunter simply dug into the pocket of his vest and held out Harry's wand.

"I believe this is yours, Bambi."

"Bambi?" Harry spluttered.

"Sirius said your old man could turn into a stag. That makes you _Bambi_."

Harry flung up his arms. "I give up, I give up."

Daryl grinned. "Have fun trying to tame your dogfather."

"Gee, thanks so much."

His cheek was given a playful pat with a calloused hand. Just like Luna's hug, Daryl's hand was warm, comforting, and while it was brief, the contact settled his bouncing nerves. Holding his wand tightly Harry watched as Daryl strolled away. Luna skipped up to the hunter, to linger by his side. Harry fiddled with the leather gauntlets on his wrists. He had forgotten to say thank you.

Sighing heavily he approached his brooding godfather. Sirius was glaring across the outer courtyard, still filled with Biters, but considerably less than the day before. The man looked as though he was thinking hard about what to do with the horde, but Harry doubted that was truly what as on his mind, it was likely he was still contemplating his argument with Rick. Sirius was a true pureblood wizard from a noble House, no matter how much he denied it, he could not chase away how much his upbringing had influenced him. He disliked getting bossed around, he only deferred to those he considered wholly honourable and trustworthy and perhaps Rick had not yet earned that seat in his godfather's mind.

"Hey…ah…Sirius…"

"Harry?!" Sirius whirled about, startled. " _Mordred_!"

He was seized roughly and heaved into a tight, smothering embrace as though it had been days since he had last been seen by the man. Harry simply let himself crumble into Sirius' arms.

"I'm glad you're alright." Sirius breathed in, seemingly scenting him like a dog. " _Merlin_ , I was so worried. I checked up on you this morning, but Daryl said you had been fine all night, Draco is good with his healing spells. Oh Harry, Harry, I was just…so worried."

Harry smiled into Sirius' shirt, he still had the slight canine scent lingering on his clothes from the night before and it was always comforting, rather like a real dog would be to cuddle into.

"Looking after Remus is just as important as I am. You two go hand in hand you know, none of us would be alive if it wasn't for you both." Harry pulled away. "You've both taught me to stand on my own feet."

Sirius clasped his shoulders. "You taught yourself that, Harry."

They sat down upon a set of stairs, the warm sunlight basking down upon them. Harry twirled his wand, the sensation of it between his fingers incredibly heartening. It had become so much a part of his life, his wand, it was a link to the world he had entered—the Wizarding World—the day Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley. What he would have given to see Hedwig again, but without her, his wand was all he had to remember the sensation of belonging that filled him.

It still filled him, right now, looking out across the inner courtyard, watching his friends work, seeing Daryl silently surveying the land in watchful protection and feeling Sirius beside him, he knew he was amongst the right people, in the right place.

Come whatever, he would protect everyone, to protect himself. He rested his head against Sirius' shoulder.

"I'm proud of you." Sirius shifted slightly. "You saved Ron and Hermione."

Harry snorted. "Not really, and besides, if I hadn't gotten lost, they wouldn't have come back for me and T-Dog would still be alive, Ron would still have his arm."

"I'm still proud of you."

Harry gulped, trying hard to accept the words. "Thanks." He could not say anything more, as Sirius groaned loudly, causing him to look across the inner courtyard, spotting Rick, Glenn, Maggie and Hershel gathered near Carl, Daryl and Luna. Hermione was giving them a loud rundown of what was going to be happening with the teleportation.

Harry stifled his giggle at the glare Rick was sending Sirius. It was not a nasty glare, just a funny, frustrated, boyish glare of schoolyard annoyance like those he had once shared with Draco whenever they'd had a toss-up.

Harry turned to his godfather, amused that the two men were behaving even more like teenagers than he and Ron usually were. "Sirius, you do realize he's doing this because he thinks you're like…the second in command right? He's trusting you with his wife and unborn kid."

Sirius looked like a fish thrust out of water. "Wh…what?"

Harry stood, brushing off his pants. By the looks of it, Hermione, Draco and the Twins had just about finished their work. He was not going to miss this piece of history in their little family. A rune teleportation done by fifth year and sixth year students was worthy of being recorded and recalled for all time.

Sirius was still pouting. Harry grinned down at his godfather, offering him a hand. "He's not trying to undermine you; he's wanting your help to run things."

"I suppose…"

"So come on," Harry dragged Sirius onto his feet. "Stop being such a pouty face. With great power comes great responsibility."

His godfather huffed. "That sounds like something Dumbledore would say."

Now that Sirius mentioned it, it did rather sound like something Dumbledore would have said. Harry tugged on his ear, thinking back to the time Dudley had slipped a few comics under the cupboard door for him. "Hmm, no, it was Spiderman's uncle."

Sirius squinted his eyes down at him. "A man who is a spider?"

Harry laughed. "Okay, next time I go out on a supply run, I am bringing back some comic books for you and Professor Lupin. Your education is lacking old man."

Harry made a mad dash, hearing Sirius' bellow from behind, "What did you just call me?"

There were so few times he had been allowed to act like a child, to run around freely like the boy he had always wanted to be but never been, to let his mask slip and hear his own laughter from his lips—sounding weird and foreign. It still baffled him, as his feet pounded the concrete, and he laughed gleefully, skipping away from Sirius' grasp once again, that the world had needed to end for him to be free.

He bumped right into Rick and squeaked. The man heaved him up like he was a toddler. Somewhere he heard the Twin's laughter.

"All right, Sirius, where do you want him?"

Harry wiggled about. "That isn't fair."

A slightly winded Sirius marched up. "Nice catch Rick. Goodness Harry, your seeker skills are still as honed as ever. Even without a broom."

Hanging in Rick's arms Harry flashed his godfather a grin. "Keep up the praise, someday my seeker skills might save your life when I decide to go all boy-hero on you."

"You can drop him, Rick."

Without ceremony he was dropped, his cheeks clapped by both men, who walked away together, both back in casual conversation as though no disagreement had ever taken place. Harry dusted himself off, his smile slipping away. Daryl's hand settled comfortably on his shoulder, he leant into it.

"Good job, Bambi."

"Thanks." Harry breathed out. The hand on his shoulder squeezed firmly, and he focused on it, trying to use it to root himself to reality as he closed his eyes. There was utterly no reason to feel the crushing panic roping around his lungs. Ron was fine. He had not lost Ron like he had lost Ginny and Neville. He felt his right hand tremble, the numbness in the fingers increasing, encasing the whole hand.

Daryl suddenly clapped him over the head.

"Owi, what was that for?" He glared up at the hunter.

"You're an idiot."

"Gee, thanks."

"Harry! You and Luna might want to stand way back, and you might want to put up a ward around yourselves." Hermione's shout drew his attention. She was shoving Draco toward a smaller circle drawn across the concrete. "Oh…and you might want to join them Daryl."

With a huff Daryl followed them. Harry had a feeling he was only doing it because they'd been ordered to do so, otherwise the man would have firmly stood his ground and grumbled something profane at Hermione for telling him otherwise.

He pulled out his wand, thanking Merlin once more that it was back in his hands, and twirled it about in a loop of intricate movements.

The Weasley family was far better known for their warding and rune skills, but he had picked up enough from Ron and Ginny to feel confident enough to cast a ward that would be worthy enough to protect them. Daryl eyed the faint shimmer of the shield curiously, kicking it with the toe of his boot.

"How long does it last?"

"Depends on the wizard or witch casting the charm, and the charm used, or the particular runes. Warding a residence is entirely different, for example, than just casting a shield charm in combat, warding yourself against a magical backlash is different from a shield charm."  
Daryl nodded. "So, any good against projectile weapons?"

"You mean muggle guns, yeah…I think a shield charm can deflect bullets, given that the wizard has enough juice. I wouldn't risk it though, unless I really, really had to."

Daryl's scowl just seemed to deepen at his words and he wondered what the man was thinking. It was to late to ask, as beyond their little area of safety, the air had begun to crackle as the rune circle was activated.

Harry placed his hands upon the invisible shield, his eyes widening at the brilliant show of magic surging up through the scrawled lines drawn on the concrete. The intense colours blended together until only white was visible and he lost all sight of Harry, Draco, Fred and George.

They were actually going to do this.

His breath chilled, the temperature had plummeted, all magic sapped out of the surrounding area in a cracking yank as bombing as thunder.

Crates, rocks, anything not rooted to the ground floated for a brief moment. Harry panicked, realizing even his own feet where inches off the concrete.

Then, as if everything just suddenly righted itself in a split second, the world returned to daylight. He stumbled back as he landed, catching himself. Luna was not so lucky. Daryl caught her as she toppled over. Around them, rocks and crates crashed down, splintering on impact. Harry cut the ward protecting them, staggering at the sudden influx of the magically enriched air.

He heard Daryl hiss but ignored the man as he ploughed forward, running past Rick and the gathered others, joining Sirius in his mad dash toward the gradually lowering mist around the two cars.

" _Morgana_! They did it." Sirius turned about. "Draco? Draco!"

A groan replied. Harry dashed toward his friend, collapsed in a heap, surrounded by the scorched and still smoking Rune ring he had been standing within. He landed beside him.

"Draco, are you all right?"

Draco waved him off. "Find Hermione," he murmured. "I'm fine."

Harry glanced up as Maggie joined him, she flung her jacket over Draco's trembling shoulders and he heaved himself up, running toward Hermione. She was sprawled out, unmoving. Skidding to a halt beside her he rolled her over, checking for a pulse.  
"Luna! The Twins? Are they okay?"

"They're fine." Daryl's reply came from behind the van.

Harry relaxed. He looked up as Glenn crouched beside him and threw a blanket over Hermione.

"She okay?"

"Just magical exhaustion. To be expected. Her core is drained. It's what we thought would happened. She won't be doing any magic for a few days until she recharges…so to speak."

"Let's get her back inside and comfortable then." Glenn carefully gathered her into his arms. "That was incredible."

Harry looked toward the two cars, now sitting in the inner courtyard, perfectly placed in the same position they had been parked within outside the prison. His stood, surveying the Biters that still filled the outer courtyard, both protecting them, and hindering them. Eventually they were going to have to deal with the whole lot of them to be able to get out of the prison.

He smoothed back Hermione's hair fondly. He did have incredible friends. Now it was his turn to work hard for them.

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Harry stood at the entrance into C-block, fiddling with his wand. Hermione had woken after about an hour, full of excited, bubbling explanations of what had happened and how interesting it was to have such a drained magical core. Draco simply shoved a potion down her mouth and deemed her fit to get on her feet.

After checking Ron one last time, Harry trailed after Daryl, joining Maggie and Glenn at the C-block entrance, awaiting the rest of the group. Luna was bouncing on her heels beside him and he caught her arm with a sudden snatch as she almost tripped.

"Careful Luna."

She sighed heavily. "I wish I could come."

"No." Daryl grunted.

"But I can kill Biters too." Luna pouted.

"No."

"But—"

"I said no, _Moonshine_."

Harry shrugged as she turned to him with an innocent, hopeful look as if he had any say in the matter what-so-ever. "Pops said no."

" _Pops_?" Maggie laughed. " _Pops_ , Daryl? Really. _Pops_? You're not that old."

Daryl looked away, but Harry could have sworn he caught the ever so slight up-turning of the edges of the man's lips. "The little _ass_ thinks he's amusing."

"I am." Harry grinned, puffing out his chest. Daryl should have known he would get him back for the _Bambi_ nickname.

Daryl shoved him lightly, just enough to let him know he was being toyed with. The hunter shoved his cross bow into his arms and Harry fumbled with it for a moment as Daryl stepped away from the gate.

"Where the hell are they?"

Glenn rolled his eyes. "Still collecting themselves I bet. That or Sirius is whining again."

"That's getting old real fast." Harry grumbled.

"Ah, for fucks sake." Daryl marched off. "Rick! Get your ass down here now! Grimes! Grimes! We ain't got all day."

Harry stared down at the crossbow left in his arms and popped his lips. He shrugged and shouldered it carefully, hoping beyond hope he wasn't about to totally screw the thing up in some terribly disastrous Harry fashion.

"So, you sure you're okay with tagging along?" Maggie's hand settled on his shoulder.

Harry nodded. "We need everyone we can spare. With Draco and Hermione down, and the Twins on limited magical supplies, I'll be good backup."

She hugged him to her chest briefly. "Okay, but yeh make sure you stick close, no gett'ng lost again."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. His cheeks refused to calm the hot blush tinting them. "I won't, and well, I have a feeling Daryl will put a leash on me if I do."

Glenn laughed. Harry ducked away as the man ruffled his hair. "I wouldn't put it past him. Honestly, _Pops_ , gee…kid, you're the only one with the balls to do that."

He was? Really. Daryl wasn't that scary. Carol certainly got along with him. Sure, the man was rough around the edges and undoubtedly had not had an easy life, but it wasn't as if he was horribly mean or anything. He was down right kind and sweet compared to—well—his Uncle.

"You guys realize he wouldn't hurt us, right? We're kids." He motioned to Luna twirling on her heels. "I think he likes us. We sort of remind him of something he never got."

Glenn leant on a wall. "I suppose so. Don't really know much about Daryl's life. Just know he had it rough, I mean, his brother Merle wasn't an easy man to get along with. Was a real piece of work, _Merle_."

"He had a brother?" Harry spluttered.

"Oh yeah." Glenn sighed. "Rick handcuffed him to a roof, T-Dog accidently dropped the key down a drain, and he got left up there. When we came back for him…he'd cut off his hand to get free and the trail went cold."

Luna had covered her mouth and Harry reached for her shoulder, squeezing it.

"Glenn!" Maggie hissed.

The man shrugged. "They should know the truth, they can handle it."

"But…but you left him up there?" Harry choked.

"To be honest," Glenn sighed, "it really was an accident of uncontrollable events. Daryl knows that. They sort of happen a lot now days."

"It's okay Harry," Luna murmured softly, "remember what Daryl said."

He blinked, turning toward her, feeling the soothing sensation that washed over him from her comforting gaze. It settled upon him like a cloak. She smiled. "Rick is a man of honor."

Harry breathed out. "Right."

Daryl was a man of family. He winced. Damn. It must of hurt, losing his brother, no matter how much of an ass he was. He looked up at Glenn. "Thanks for telling us, Glenn."  
"You're welcome, _Bambi_."

"Great…that's really going to catch on, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah." Glenn smirked. "It is."

Harry hid his smile by turning away. Glenn and Maggie, they were so much like what he imagined having a real Aunt and Uncle would have been like. He curled his toes in his boots.

"Seesh, Skye, what happened to yeh?"

Surprised at Maggie's outburst, Harry swung his attention around. Skye was pulling on a shirt, his mop of hair utterly spastic, without hope of being tamed but it was his eyes that caught Harry by surprise. Puffy and red, as if he had been rubbing at them, perhaps to wipe away tears. He looked utterly dishevelled.

Harry studied him, running a quick aura scan. There was nothing out of the ordinary tainting his thick aura, just a layer of irritation, which considering their current situation, most of the group usually had. Skye's was just heavier, like a smoke stirred up.

Skye sagged against the gate, dropping his head back with a long sigh. "Sam wanted to come. She's feeling cooped up."

"She ain't coming," Daryl's sudden voice interjected. Harry offered the crossbow back to the hunter as he jogged back. "The Twins and Bambi is enough trouble."

Skye held up his hand. "I know, Daryl. I know. Carol gave her the task of empting out the cars, gave her something to do. Just, arguing with my wife was hardly what I wanted to do today."

"I don think it's what most husbands intend on doing when 'hey wake up." Maggie assured. She looked back. "Where is mah Dad?"

Daryl shouldered his crossbow. "Checking on the wolf with the Twins. Give them a few more minutes."

"Is Professor Lupin okay?" Harry wobbled back and forth on his feet. "He's usually a bit out of it for a day or so after the full moon."

"That man could be crushed by a trunk, Harry, and survive, donno why you're worried." Daryl shrugged.

"It's nice you think really highly of him and all. Werewolves are given a rather bad wrap…" Harry blew a rasp.

"We've got the undead walking around," Glenn scoffed. "I think werewolves are the least of our problems right now. Also, anyone who's strong enough to bend metal is okay in my books."

Heads turned in the direction of Rick as the man finally emerged, pulling on his belt, guns dangling down his thighs. Harry gulped, grateful the man actually knew how to use the weapons he carried. Fred followed up behind Rick, with Carl skipping along behind, grinning ear to ear.

"Finally." Daryl drawled out. "Took yeh long enough."

Rick ignored him, taking the gate keys from Skye.

"Are we all ready?"

"Pretty much," Glenn agreed.

"Where's George?" Harry questioned.

Fred jutted a finger back the way he had come. "George has decided to stay back to be a guard for the girls unpacking the cars. While we don't have much magic, we can still swing beater-bats. We figured it was better to split for this one, cover more ground."

"Good idea." Rick gave his shoulder a pat.

"It's always weird when you guys do things without each other," Harry muttered.

Fred chuckled. "Don't _jinx_ it Harry."

"Shut up." Harry kicked his shin.

"Wait! Wait!" Draco's voice bellowed out from the yonder cells.

Daryl flung up his arms in defeat. Harry bit his lips, compressing his laughter.

Draco came bustling out of the cell he had chosen for his and Luna's potion lab. Harry fumbled slightly as his friend shoved a bag into his arms. "Right, this is my backup supply. For goodness sake, be careful with it, _Potter_."

This last name—ouch—Draco's mood was off if he was using his last name. He could not blame the blond, he had heard from Hermione that magical core depletion was very irritating, but he had never experienced it himself, though he could rather imagine it as something similar to the painful wounds he had endured through his life.

"Thanks Draco."

"I'll take it you know what's what?"

"Yep." He nodded.

"Good." Draco swung around. "Don't die. And don't, for _Morgana's_ sake, cut off anymore limbs!" He shouted the last words as he stomped back into his cell. Harry raised his eyebrow, sheepishly glancing toward Rick who was shaking his head.

"All right," their leader turned, heaving open the gate, "let's go."

Rick handed the keys to Carl through the bars, giving his son a serious pat on the hat he always wore.

"Can't I come Dad?" Carl looked hopeful.

It took all the will power Harry could muster not to stare at Lori as she made her presence known, walking down the stairs from the top level, lingering on the final step, her gaze so skittish, he could have sworn she was some sort of deer caught in a headlight. He knew Rick didn't mean to scowl at her as he squeezed Carl's shoulder, but whatever had transpired between the husband and wife must have been so much deeper than he'd first thought.

Rick motioned to the keys he'd handed Carl. "If anything happens to me Carl, you're gonna have to look after your mother."

"Oh, right." Carl squared his shoulders. "Yeah."

"This gate is your job, Carl."

Carl bobbed his head obediently. Rick swept away, leaving the stare of his wife. Harry honestly didn't blame him.

Through the bars, Harry caught Luna's slim hands. He lifted one to his lips.

"Keep safe," Luna whispered. "Don't do anything stupid, Harry."

Harry clasped her hand tightly. "Can't promise that."

He ducked away, laughing as he missed her well-aimed swipe for his cheek. With a deep breath Harry trailed quickly after Daryl and Skye, squeezing in between them both. Their far taller forms felt like immense pillars in the dim light that engulfed them as they adventured further into the unmarked territory of the prison.

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 _Bit of a nothing chapter, sorry about that. ^^;_

 _What terrors I do wonder await them further in the prison?_

 _Hmmm…..I do wonder too. XD_

 _Keep well folks!_

 _Catch you next time._

 _Cheers,_

 _KL_


	9. Chapter 9

_10/10/2016_

 _Hello Dear Readers,_

 _I apologize for my absence. Life sort of ran over me. I became busy bringing out my second novel – which is now available if anyone is interested: Protectors: Book Two – Chronicles of the Children (though I do recommend reading Book One, Key, first…)  
Now that all that is sorted, I just have knee surgery to survive, and moving out of my house to manage…while I'm recovering from knee surgery. Fun times ahead. Fun times.  
But ever onward! _

_Enjoy the update.  
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed despite my absence, who has faved and followed as well. _

_I really, really appreciate it._

 _Cheers,_

 _Keep well._

 _KL_

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 **Chapter Nine**

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"Don't push yourself." Draco bothered Sam as she pulled on her jacket. He could not understand why he was feeling anxious, watching the young woman bundle herself up. The little bump that showed any sign of her pregnancy kept catching his eye, making his throat constrict. He was getting as bad as Harry. Damn it. This is what he got for hanging around _Gryffindors_.

Sam's touch was cool on his cheek. She directed his gaze up, into hers, and her lips pulled back into a soft smile. Time stood still. It was an illusion of the grey light through the prison windows, he knew it was—his mother was dead. Something was playing with his head, the lack of sleep—yes—it was the lack of sleep. The dust in the air caught the light, casting shadows over her face, mimicking lines of age that were not there.

He held back his tears, clutching his fists, burrowing nails into the flesh so tightly he was sure he was causing tiny crescents of blood to form.

"Draco, hon, I'm just getting boxes. I have more fear of pulling a back muscle then getting eaten by a Walker today." His forehead was pecked. "Thanks for worrying."

He shuffled on his feet. "I just…"

"I know, sweetie," Sam attached her machete to her belt, "I know." With that, she was gone, bouncing out of the cell with far too much vigour. He groaned, leaning back on the wall. He was so foolish, becoming attached to more people. He shuttered his breath out through the fingers covering his face before stringing his hand through his hair.

"Draco?"

Luna stood in the doorway. He wished she was not so perceptive.

"You all right?" Like bells, her voice spoke into his soul.

"Ye…yeah." Draco managed a weak breath, "Magic, you know, so weird how it forms bonds."

"We're teenagers, Dragon, lost in a chaotic world, it is only natural for our magic to latch onto people. We need to survive, our magic wants us to survive, and it will figure out any way to do so."

He knew all this. It was taught to pureblood wizards from childhood. He just had never expected it to be so important in a world as screwed up as the one he now lived in. "I know," he whispered.

"Anyway," Luna skipped into the small cell, grinning, "you could do worse for parents. At least they're not, you know, followers of a Dark Lord or something?"

He sent her a sour glare. "Keep it up, Lovegood, and I'll poison you."

She clicked her tongue at him. If he was not reserving his magic and letting it replenish, he would have playfully hexed her for being annoying.

Thankfully, Hermione decided to make it that moment to burst in with Carl behind her. She was like a whirlwind, obviously needing something to distract herself further from Ron's condition.

"Right!" Hermione clapped her hands. "So, what are we doing, Draco?"

Draco squared his shoulders. "We're making a potions lab." He pointed to the bunk within the cell. "Luna I want that turned into a bench, and if we could extend the area by a few feet, that would be great. It's a bit cramped in here."

"Hermione, could you draw me up some extending Runes?" Luna murmured as she waved her wand, crafting the bunk into an intricate potions table, silver and glossy, with snakes winding up its legs. Draco clasped his hands in approval, supressing the urge to bounce about as he turned back to Luna.

"It's like you read my mind."

"Maybe I do." Luna giggled.

Carl watched on with wonder struck eyes. Draco smirked. He had not seen anything yet.

Hermione held out a couple stones, each with a glittering silver rune drawn onto their surface. Luna accepted them. "Thanks Hermione, they're perfect."

"How are we doing this then?" Hermione glanced to Draco. "Are we grounding them to the earth, or to the walls of the prison itself, or to one of us?"

Draco hummed, tapping his chin.

"What does that mean?" Carl leant forward, studying the little rocks in Hermione's hands.

Hermione held one out to Carl. "So these are Rune stones, they have many different uses, and it just depends on the sequence of Runes you write on them as to what you can do. We're trying to extend the dimension of this cell without impacting the outside area."

"You can do that?"

"Remember Harry's bag." Draco offered. "How it never seems to run out of space."

"Oh." Carl blinked. "Wow."

"If we ground the Runes to the earth," Luna frowned, "we risk causing a feedback with the earth magic. What if we have to leave suddenly, and the Runes remain here…forever…"

Draco pressed his lips together. "Yeah, but if we ground the Runes to the prison, if the prison is destroyed while we're inside the cell it will compress back on us." He shuttered. "Needless to say, that's not a pretty picture."

"And if we ground it into one of us, the same applies, if whoever the Rune is grounded to dies, and someone is inside the cell at the time…" Hermione cringed. "Yuk."

"I say you ground it to the prison." Carl offered. "The likelihood of you being inside this cell while the prison is destroyed is very low. It would take a bomb going off under our feet for the foundations of this place to be destroyed entirely."

Draco nodded slowly. "He's right. There is just too much risk in grounding it to the earth for such a small area. I say we leave grounding the Runes to the earth for the whole prison itself."

Hermione dropped her head back. "We're fourth year students, Draco, we have no idea how to craft ward stones!"

"We can try."

"And get blown up! No thank you!"

"At some point in our history," Draco raised a hand, mimicking her lecturing tone mockingly, "young wizards and witches had to try the impossible. We are now those young wizards and witches for a new era."

"I hate you."

"That hate shall someday become love, I am sure." He smirked. "Give Luna the Runes, let's do this."

To say that Hermione looked proud by the time they had the cell extended was an understatement, she looked as though she had swallowed a peacock. Draco resisted the temptation of saying something extremely nasty at her, only because it was actually Luna who had done all the work, and Hermione had only overseen it. He could survive Harry getting annoyed at him for saying something to Hermione, because Harry tended to know Hermione had a prideful streak the girth of Hagrid's waist, but getting Luna upset—well—Harry would not have been so understanding about that.

"Now, the finishing touch." Draco touched the back wall of the cell, giving it a firm pat. "Time to see the damage a few months not checking on our stash as done."  
"Everything should be fine, Draco," Luna murmured.

"What are you going to do?" Carl slipped down from the potions bench.

"Family magic." Draco offered. "The Lovegoods have a family heirloom that has allowed Luna and I to keep up our potions, otherwise we'd be a little stuck without some hard to find ingredients."

"Sadly, Carl, we're not in a computer game." Hermione huffed, hands on her hips.

Carl laughed. "That's annoying, you can't just swoosh all your stuff up, heh."

"Nope." Hermione popped her lips.

"Technically," Luna frowned, "it belonged to my mother's family, not my father's…"

Draco softly placed a hand on Luna's shoulder. Years could go by, and the pain was still carved into Luna's face. He had seen his mother torn apart by the dead, she had seen her mother torn apart by magic, and he was not entirely sure which was worse. Luna could have so easily come to despise the very magic that had made her what she was.

"She…she was a great witch."

Luna managed a smile. "Yes, she was." Luna carefully removed one of the many necklaces looped about her neck, revealing a key dangling from the chain. Often he wondered what the other keys where for, what other secrets the Lovegood family held, but he should have been satisfied knowing just this one.

However, a Malfoy was never satisfied. Luna was a wonderful mystery, in her smile, in her delicate mannerisms, always surprising him with her mask, the moments it slipped to show the true witch she was. He wished, how much he wished, he had known her mother—he wished their families had been closer.

His father had been a foolish man to disregard so many of the lower house families simply due to their standing, when so many of them had held the greatest secrets, the greatest stories, and the most incredible magical heritages.

Luna approached the wall, holding out the key, and as though the concrete was soft putty, she slotted the key into an invisible keyhole.

Draco heard Carl's gasp at the sight of the beautiful glowing lines growing their way out from the key, like vines, creating the image of an intricate door. As each line met the other, wood cracked and groaned, forming from the concrete and the door came to life. Luna stepped away, pulling the key back to her chest. She cocked her head back to Draco, wearing a grin.

"Well, sir, your lair awaits."

He could barely contain the excitement bubbling within him as he burst through the door, ignoring Hermione and Luna's laughter, soon joined by Carl's. Whatever, they could laugh all they wanted, this place may as well have been Merlin's workshop for him. A lair, Luna called it, and it was a fair word to describe the circular room that opened up. It was a tower, going up, and the glow of light from high windows shone down through stained glass across wide bricked floors. It made him feel like he was home, in Hogwarts, and it was comforting. A small garden grew an assortment of potions ingredients, and shelves lined the walls, full of jars and small boxes, making the air smell rich and tea-scented.

"Oh…" Carl stood at the door, his jaw dropped, gaping. "No way. No friggen way."

Hermione grabbed his arm, dragging him inside. "Yes way."

"Where are we?"

"We're in a pocket dimension, created and sustained by family magic. If I was to die, it would die with me." Luna knelt by the garden, checking the soil. Draco joined her. She indicated it was getting dry and he searched about for the watering can, finding it, and filling it with water from the small hand pump.

Draco handed over the watering can. He looked up, to the many levels of the tower. "Each level is a generation of the family."

"Really?" Carl murmured. "Wow, Luna, this is so amazing."

"Thank you."

"Which level are you?"

"The one you are currently on. It opens to the generation you request. We are quite an old family on my mother's side." Her hand briefly touched another necklace key. "On my father's as well…"

"So," Carl crouched beside her, "do all the other keys you have led to other places like this?"

Draco had never before seen a smirk on Luna's lips quite like the one she gave Carl. It startled him. "That's a secret, Carl, that I'll only ever show my one true love."

Carl grinned. "Guess I'll have to be your one true love then."

"Okay," Hermione grabbed Carl by the back of his shirt, dragging him away, "Mr. Cop's Son, ain't happening. Let's go look at some books so you can learn the basics of potions."

Draco felt his shoulders unknot as Hermione dragged Carl away. He glanced back at Luna, happily watering their small garden.

"Ah…Luna…"

"Yes Draco?" She tipped her head around, and thankfully, the terrifying smirk was gone.

"You decided on that…ah…one true love thing…yet…?"

"Hmmm, no," she heaved a rather dramatic sigh, "I'm fence sitting."

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"We haven't had this much space since the farm." Carol lost her gaze across the outer courtyard, still full of a few mingling Walkers that needed dealing with. All in due time. For now, they could stay there until the boys got back with—well—she mused—hopefully some more weapons than their current stash of weapons.

Was Maggie considered one of the boys? Hmmm, she always did go on the adventures with them. Ever since she had met Maggie on the farm the young woman had been such a sprite, if there was any woman who could deal with this sort of life-style it was Maggie Greene. Carol sighed. Lori perhaps not so much, and Beth was having to grow into it, she had time, the girl was young enough and had begun to improve with the introduction of more children her age to mother.

Carol set a crate of supplies down, studying her calloused hands. Dirt and blood caked the dry skin she had once been so fussed about trying to keep smooth and clean. Spotty signs of age showed, sunblock was a thing of the past now, and she supposed so was aging cream. Stupid things her ex-husband Edward had been so insistent about no longer mattered.

"Good," she muttered.

"Ohhh, I think that back muscle just got pulled."

Carol smiled at the sing-song whine from Sam. The young woman wiped sweat off her brow and flipped back her short hair, collapsing on the bonnet of the land-rover. Her hand lingered over her stomach. Carol reached out, clasping her hand firmly in assurance.

"Are you worried?"

"Sort of." Sam shrugged. "It's an odd feeling. I think I would be more worried if it was just Skye and me, you know. Nine months is a long time to carry a little one around inside." She rubbed her shoulders. "Not to mention how long it takes to recover, and babies aren't entirely functional humans for a while. Little wiggly, poop making things." She cranked a smile, but it was forced.

Carol laughed. "We'll be fine. We'll make a home here."

Sam nodded and they both looked out across the courtyards, toward the green forest yonder. Carol breathed in deeply. This place would be a good home, to raise the children. She fought back the tears, trying desperately not to think of Sophie running across the green grass, a smile bright on her face.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they had both cleared out the cars and carried everything into C-Block, without the help of either Sirius or George, wherever the two of them had gone off to, Carol had no idea. She grumbled about the hypocrisy of men as she worked on a small meal for Remus, listening to the laughter of the children in one of the nearby cells. Sam had gone off to handle Lori, who had refused to eat that morning, and then also lunch, which was troubling but it was not as if Carol could handle every single situation on her own. Sam had opted to deal with it and she could only hope it did not end in disaster. Lori had a particular bite to her, not that she blamed her, she had been through a considerable strain—and Rick—well—Rick was being a total ass at the moment. Someone needed to remove the stick up his rear end. She hoped perhaps Sirius would temper Rick's nature, since the two of them were like peas-in-a-pod, but it would take time, and Lori simply did not have time at the moment. The baby was coming and Rick was going to have to deal with that fact.

Carol gathered the bowl and the crackers upon the tray, smiling down at the arrangement. It was not much, but it looked better than any meal out of a dog-can. She tried not to feel terrible for the comparison, considering the man she was taking the meal to. The fresh air and manual labour with Sam had done her good, getting muscles working, unloosening aching bones. She felt old, older than she truly was, and perhaps it was simply the wear and tear, the drain of the constant moving that the winter had bought on.

This prison might not have looked homey, but it was a God-send, it was space to pause, to breath, and to hopefully—well—for her at least—to find a moment to heal. The children they had run into at the cabin had speared at the fresh wound in her heart—the loss of her daughter, Sophie. She felt as though every wall she had built up was breaking, and she was bleeding all over again, seeing their faces, their smiles, hearing their laughter and tears. Her hands clenched against the tray as they trembled. Anything—she would have given anything for Sophie to see their magic.

Breathing out steadily Carol squared her shoulders. She stood in front of Remus' cell and she had no idea what a werewolf could sense, he was entirely an enigma, an interesting one at that. She poked her head into the dimly lit room, finding the space had been enlarged and the rickety prison bed made into a far more comfortable looking specimen yet still rather simple, almost military in design.

Remus sat in the bed, the trench coat he had always been wearing since she had first met him had been removed, leaving him in a woollen vest and shirt. His thin shoulders were slouched, exhaustion rolled off him in waves, every crease across his brow aging him years. He was, to be perfectly honest, a mess. She had known he was lanky under the coat he wore, but she had not expected him to actually be withered. Her chest ached. Did changing into a werewolf cause him that much pain?

Carol inched in, and he looked up sharply from the book in his lap. His eyes were yellow for a moment, before they flickered back to their dull grey. He blinked a few times, as if adjusting to the sight of her.

"Ah, Carol…good…morning?"

"Afternoon actually." She tipped her head in greeting. "I've bought you some late lunch. Sirius said you tend not to like eating until quite late."

"Thank you." He shuffled on the bed and she sat down, sliding the tray over his lap.

Her eyes fell on the book he had been lost in and she smiled. "Lord of the Rings, really? I thought that would have been mandatory reading for you wizards?"

"Never actually read it. Hermione has been going on about it, figured it was time."

Her fingers trailed over the front cover of the large tome, surprised to feel her eyes misting over as she traced the engraved golden lettering of the title. Books. Knowledge. Invaluable things that had been discarded in the chaos. Had anyone thought to save the knowledge in the libraries now that the internet no longer functioned? Had it all burnt in the bombing that had taken out so many of the major cities?

"I wonder if this prison has a library?"

"Funny," Remus swirled a cracker around in the canned stew, "I had thought the same thing this morning."

They mirrored similar smiles, until Remus winced. She leant forward, gripping his hand. She supressed her surprise at just how warm it was.

"You all right?"

"I'll be fine—"

She wanted to tell him that he was a very pathetic liar but Sam rushed through the cell door, breathing heavily in a panic. She spotted them both and bit her lips, turning suddenly shy.

"It's Lori," Sam tangled her fingers with the bottom of her mini skirt. "Carol, I can't…I can't…do this. You need to speak to her. Please."

Carol sighed softly. She had known this was going to happen, so why had she tried to send Sam to Lori in the first place. Perhaps she had just hoped that Lori would relate to the young woman simply through their combined situation but alas, Lori was in another world entirely.

"It's fine, Sam, I'll deal with it."

"I'm sorry."

"No, no," Carol smiled. "It's not your fault. Lori is difficult at the moment."

"I'll come." Remus eased carefully out of his bed.

"Remus!" Carol insisted.

He touched her arm lightly, yet even that was a firm grip. He must have noticed her tense, though she had done everything to work on flinching when touched. Daryl and Rick had worked wonders on her esteem, despite the shattering it had gone through from Ed and the loss of her daughter. She had not meant to cause him to withdraw, and wished the moment his hand slipped away, that it had remained on her arm, where the warmth of his skin burned hot.

"I might be able to help," he insisted.

Sam almost sunk against the bed in relief. "Thank heavens. She's beside herself."

"Sam, how about you go help the kids." Carol urged. "You don't need this stress, not about these…sorts of things."

The young woman scrubbed at her face as she stood, giving a full bow to them both before vanishing out the door. Carol nibbled her bottom lip, perhaps she should have sent the young woman off to George or Sirius, at least to someone who could weld a weapon. No, now she was just getting herself worked up and worried too. She sighed, time to play the endearing friend to Lori.

"Best get this over with…" she muttered.

"You have a lot of roles, don't you?" Remus was tugging on his coat. It made his skinny frame just that bit bulkier. She had not expected him to truly be so wiry, though it was not as if he was without toned muscle. He was nothing like his friend, who stood head and shoulder above even Daryl. Sirius was a lording figure, and yet Remus gave her the impression of a book-a-holic, so much better suited for long hours sipping tea in the afternoon sun, getting ink stains on his fingers.

She plucked at her sleeves. "I suppose I do."

"Just don't go losing who you truly are, under all those faces you wear."

"Same could be said for you, Professor."

He laughed as he led her out of the cell. "Oh, I assure you, Carol dear, my heart will forever be a lost little boy."

"One of Peter Pan's failures then?" She could not help but joke.

"Something like that." His smile creased even deeper lines over old scars. Too soon the smile vanished as they heard Lori's pained sobs and quickly Carol found herself falling into her comforting friend role, throwing a blanket around Lori's shoulders as she sunk onto the bunk beside her, pulling the frail pregnant woman close.

"Lori…Lori what's wrong?" she urged.

Lori curled up tighter into a ball, clutching her rounded stomach. Carol went numb, glancing up at Remus and catching the grief of his look. No, not the baby. Surely not.

"Lori? Is it the baby."

"I can't…I can't feel it, Carol, I haven't felt it move…"

"Lori, don't jump to conclusions here." She gripped her friends hands tightly. "You've been under the weather a little. We've hardly eaten well for weeks before we met the Magicals—"

"I haven't felt the baby move for weeks!"

"I am sure—"

"Don't patronize me Carol." Lori wrenched aside. Carol winced at her stinging hand, welts appearing on her skin from Lori's sharp nails.

Carol sucked in a sharp breath. She could see why Sam had run away now. Lori's breathing was sharp and fast, her skin clammy and hot, yet the woman would not stop shivering. There was such little hope of calming her from. Carol cursed Rick under her breath. The man was being a stubborn idiot, letting his wife think she was alone in everything. Rick was a good man, under all his gruff exterior and stupid-pig-head, but if he did not begin acting like a loving husband again she was starting to wonder if Lori was going to break.

Or would Rick break.

One of them was going to break.

Maybe even Carl would break.

Remus shuffled further into the cell and knelt before Lori, gathering her hands into his. Lori stilled, her eyes widening at the touch. They must have been warm, Carol thought, warm and gentle, despite all their scars. The hands of a man who guarded and never lashed out, even with the dangerous wolf lingering within.

"Lori, I want you to listen to me very carefully." Remus' voice was low, it rumbled from within his chest, like a tempered growl. "I can assure you that the baby is very much alive and healthy."

Lori gasped. "But how?"

"I have very good hearing, and a very good sense of smell. Both are telling me that your little baby is fine."

Tears flooded down Lori's cheeks once more. She collapsed against the werewolf and he held her as she sobbed. Remus glanced toward Carol, as if seeking any sort of advice and Carol shook her head, truly not knowing what to do. They had only one option, support the emotionally drained woman through the next few weeks and hope, beyond hope, that Rick pulled the stick out of his ass sooner rather than later.

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From ahead, Harry heard Rick sneeze.

"Great, Grimes, just alert every geek we're here, will yeh?" Daryl hissed.

"Someone must be thinking shit about him." Skye chuckled.

"Bet its Carol," Daryl drawled out. "She's been giving yeh the stink eye for days now." The hunter waggled a finger under Rick's nose. "Betta watch yer food, brother, the little minx will poison yeh."

Rick ignored them, though Harry was sure he glinted a pained twitch in the man, like the sort of guilty twinges Sirius would get whenever anyone mentioned James and Lily. Whatever inner terminal their leader was going through, it was eating at him something awful. Harry focused clearer on his lumos, lighting their gloomy path.

They had already checked on T-Dog and found his corpse where Daryl had left it. Rick debated about ordering Fred back to fetch Sirius and George to get the body, until Harry had admitted he had a way to send messages via his Patrous. With that sorted they headed onward, Glenn pausing every so often to draw a sign on a wall, just to make sure they wouldn't get themselves lost in what Maggie had sarcastically called 'The Tombs'.

Harry rolled his stiff shoulder. His arm was grating him, and it was frustrating to have the distraction in the sticky air, the smell of rot clinging to him. He kept resisting the urge to cast a bubble-head charm to clear his breathing air.

"It's a good thing Sam didn't come with us." He tugged on Skye's sleeve. "I keep wanting to throw up lunch."

He felt Skye's hand on his shoulder, giving him a firm pat. "To be honest I've been wondering if it's a smell one ever gets used to. My Father used to tell me of the days he worked as a doctor for the International Disease Control, he saw some nasty stuff, but the way he described decomposing bodies was the worst when I was a kid. Put me off being a doctor forever. Much to the chagrin of my mother."

"So you became a secret governmental spy instead?"

"Daryl been running his mouth?"

"I don run my mouth," Daryl hissed back.

"You do, you're the worst at it." Skye kicked out, only to pause mid swing and Harry squeaked as the man ducked suddenly and Daryl shot an arrow over the top of him. The roll Skye managed with such short distance, and how he caught the knife Daryl threw as he charged past into the oncoming fray of Walkers only made Harry move faster. There was no way, no way in hell, that he was going to miss impressing his two mentors. He barely managed to get a few stabs in before a pile of twitching bodies lay around his feet.

"How the hell do you do that," Harry spluttered. "It's like you guys are telepathic or something!"

"We're just that damn good." Daryl and Skye made fists, bumping them together. Harry rolled his eyes, yanking his dagger out of a Walker's skull. At least he had managed to get one and not feel like a total tosser.

Glenn and Maggie rounded a corner, crowbar and bat in hands, ready for action. Glenn skidded to a halt at the sight of them standing amongst the bloodied bodies.

"Well, looks like you lot don't need our help." Glenn lowered his bat. Harry wasn't sure if he sounded glad everything was all right or upset he had missed the action.

"Always need your help, Glenn," Skye chirped. "Help me check these guys for keys."

"Ewww, no." Glenn pinched his nose. "Nope."

"Oh come on, we all end up a rotting corpse one day. Just think of it as experience."

"Shut up." Glenn slapped at Skye.

Maggie laughed at the two as they squelched through the bodies. She ruffled Harry's mop of hair fondly, so when her grip tightened suddenly, and he wrenched around at the sound of her cry, he felt as though he tore out half his scalp. The three men reacted even before he did. Daryl had snatched Maggie aside, hoisting her up as though she was a doll, out of the reach of the struggling Walker slopping along the ground. Skye yanked Harry away, and on instinct he had resisted the pull before following it and thumping into the man heavily. It was Glenn who attacked on behalf of his girlfriend, viciously and with a rage Harry never wanted to see aimed at a living person. He was lost in a blur, wondering if he ever looked so enraged when anyone ever harmed Luna, or Hermione—or even Ron and Draco.

Glenn smacked his boot into the Walkers skull several times as he came down from his rampage. Maggie clutched at Daryl, hanging in his arms.

"Fuck." Daryl swore. "Did it—"

"No, I…I don't…" Maggie choked. "I don't think so…"

Harry cast a lumos and their world brightened. Worried faces confronted him, bloodied shirts and hands, but no open wounds as far as Harry could tell. Skye ripped at Maggie's torn pants, pulling them away. "It's not a bite. Didn't break the surface of the skin either. I think your ankle's just twisted. Damn, they're strong." The man held out a hand and Harry quickly sorted through his bag. He pulled out a wad of bandages and handed them to Skye.

"Just be happy its not a bite or a scratch," Daryl griped. "Or Harry would be cutting off your leg."

"Not funny." Harry held out a potion to her. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."

Glenn had slumped against a wall, trembling, the shock of the moment settling in. Harry threw him a pepper-up. "She's fine, Glenn."

"I know, I know."

Daryl crouched, settling Maggie's weight on his knee as Skye finished the bandage off neatly. Harry admired the work. He pouted as Skye chuckled.

"Doctor's son, remember. Both parents."

"Seriously? Both of them. They must have been so disappointed in you." Maggie laughed weakly. She was sweating, little beads of it glittering in the light of his lumos, and she was forcing her smile. She was hurting, and likely she was still scared, by the way her fingers were latched tightly around Daryl's vest, but she was trying so hard not to show it. Was Skye talking randomly about things on purpose, just to distract everyone.

"Mum got over it eventually." Skye grinned.

"Yeah, but you're a spy." Harry waved his arms around, joining in on Skye's random chitchat.

"Keep thinking that Bambi." Skye ruffled his hair. "Maybe someday you'll figure it out."

"Alright, where is Rick?" Daryl grumbled. "We're having a crisis and he's not around. Screw his leadership skills."

Harry glanced around, frowning. "Great. Fred's gone missing too."

"We'd best go find them before Rick does something stupid," Daryl hissed. "Can yeh walk, hon?"

Maggie tested her leg, grimacing. "I think so. I'll be a bit slow, but I should be fine. Glenn, be a knight and give yer girlfriend a hand."

"Coming." Glenn pushed off from the wall and offered his shoulder.

Skye and Daryl marched either side of Glenn and Maggie and Harry took up the front, lumo's brightening their path through the muggy air. He tried hard not to think of just what it was they were breathing in and wished the ventilation down in these corridors was working, it made his stomach clench with the thought that he was breathing in decomposing bodies.

Heavy boots pounding the floor alerted them to Rick's presence ahead, it could not have been anyone else, for Daryl did not react violently.

Rick motioned back down the way he had come. "You've got to come and look at this."

Daryl looked about ready to erupt at Rick. Harry grabbed his arm, tugging him back. "Let's just…find out what he's been doing before we bring the roof down on us. Okay."

The hunter pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning, but relented.

Around a corner Fred stood in front of open double doors. Harry jogged up to him. "What have you been doing? We were attacked, Maggie was hurt."

"You handled it." Fred shrugged. "Someone has to watch Rick's back, Harry, the guy is just like Sirius, he'll rush into something without backup and get caught in a bad situation. We all know how that turned out for Sirius."

Harry cringed. Fred was awfully blunt without George around to temper him. "All right, all right. So what'cha found?"

"Something really troubling." Fred motioned through the double doors and Harry peered. It was a cafeteria of sorts he supposed, but it was the two bodies collapsed over the floor that drew his instant attention. He grabbed for Fred's arm.

"They're…"

"I know." Fred nodded.

Suddenly Daryl and Rick shoved past, into the cafeteria, weapons at the ready. Harry stumbled back against Fred, biting his bottom lip to contain his annoyance at the two men barrelling in. Glenn and Maggie followed with much more trepidation. Skye planted himself at the entrance, glaring back into the darkness beyond. Harry shivered, rubbing at his neck. He did not like steely look on Skye's face one bit. He tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling and turned his attention to Rick and Daryl.

Rick kicked at the nearest body, dressed in a grotty prison jump-suit. "What do you think happened?"

"Musta killed each other." Daryl rubbed his chin.

"No. I don't think that's it…" Harry crept in, step by step. He shifted around Daryl, using the hunter as a shield before dropping to his knees at the side of the nearest corpse. It was not long dead and it was alarming to see when so often they were faced with bodies so very far gone. Harry repressed a shutter, trying not to think of T-Dog and Ginny. He pushed the thoughts aside and opened his aura sight, despite the wincing pain it caused down the back of his neck. There was no wound upon the body, no blood, no obvious sign to indicate a traumatic death—also, the moment he had stepped into the cafeteria his skin had prickled from some sort of magical signature in the air.

The body was still warm, and if Daryl's frown was anything to go by, the other he was inspecting was the same. Harry rolled the body over, supressing his gasp at the face that gaped up at him in frozen shock.

His aura sight flared. No soul. Not even a thread left lingering behind.

"They aren't turning," Rick murmured. "They should be turning by now."

"Well, it can take a while." Maggie shrugged.

"They won't turn." Harry shook his head. Even Daryl looked surprised when everyone jerked his way.

"What'da mean they won't turn, they're dead, and no blow to tah head." Daryl waggled one of their limp hands around, just to prove his point.

Harry sat back on his heels. "Rick, you told Sirius that you guys went to the CDC and met that doctor-guy there, right?"

"Yeah." Rick tensed. "He told you about that?"

Harry nodded. "Told us all about it, thought it was good for us to know more details. Hermione was very curious and Professor Lupin has been wanting to study Biters for ages, considering his condition. Anyway. You told Sirius about that…replay thing?"

Rick knelt to be at his height. "You come back, but….you're just, not really the same."

Harry nodded. It was the simple way of putting it, he supposed. "Right, the brain gets activated again, but you don't come back."

Fred stepped in. "Have you ever given any thought to the Human Soul?"

The muggles all looked to him like he had just said something totally outrageous. Fred just shrugged. "Guess not."

Harry nodded, pulling their attention back to him. "What happens to the soul when you die. I'm not talking about a religion or anything here, while yes, some Wizards are religious…I'm simply pointing out the possibility of the existence of the soul having an impact on this particular situation. Us Magical's have often speculated that it is through the connection our souls have with the planet that we generate our magical core. You, as Mundanes, still have souls, they just don't generate a magical charge."

To be honest, it only looked as though Daryl was following any of the conversation, and perhaps Glenn. Rick was simply nodding because that was how he acted when confronted with new information to consume.

"You…you're not saying the soul is still stuck inside Walkers are you?" It was not disgust in Maggie's voice, but gut-wrenching pain, as though she was reliving every Walker she had killed, and every family-member she had lost in that moment.

"Well, Luna and I can't see them, so I think it's actually the opposite. I think it truly is just the result of the disease getting them back up and around again." Harry tried to reassure her.

"Then why aren't these guys going to turn?" Maggie whispered.

"Because when you die the Soul sticks around for a while, and pieces…like threads…linger. It can vary in time for different people."

"The same way turning can vary for different people." From his station by the door, Skye added.

Harry clicked his fingers, pointing to Skye. "Right. These guys, they don't have their souls. They were hit with Avara Karvdara."

Rick's eyebrows lifted, hearing something he did recognize. "That _evil_ curse Sirius mentioned."

 _Evil curse_. Harry almost laughed. Such a Rick thing to say. "Yep." Harry nodded. "Rips the soul right out of the body. Instant death. Quite painless, but the result is…well…" He glanced down at the three men. "Pretty obvious."

"Guess it's useless on Walkers," Rick grumbled.

"Yeah, you can't kill something that's already dead." Harry chuckled. "That hasn't got a soul."

"Not the point Rick," Daryl griped.

"Precisely." Fred tapped his wand to his nose. "Every one of us Magical's was accounted for. Who the hell did this? I highly doubt Sirius and George got down here ahead of us."

"I don't sense their magical signatures in here." Harry shook his head.

An eerie silence settled over them until Fred murmured. "Do you sense anything Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes. It was difficult to unknot his tense muscle in the surrounds, but he applied Luna's training, breathing in deeply and letting the pain drain out through the floor. Threads of brilliant light flared around him, causing his heart to race, the only voids the black holes of the dead men and a few Walkers moseying about beyond the walls of the cafeteria. He shuttered at just how vacant touching them felt. Thankfully, the steady burn of Daryl's warmth was nearby, crackling like a campfire and he wondered if in times of intense danger if it would burn into an inferno. It made him suddenly miss Sirius' presence. In this world of magical aura, Sirius was like a brilliant beacon of hot iron scorching his skin, always making him feel safe and comforted after his life in the cold cupboard, never, ever warm enough.

Harry shook his head, he could stay studying Rick, Glenn and Maggie's threads forever, curious and amused but that was not why he was enduring this. Swinging his attention further out Harry caught frail threads yonder them. He frowned. Not magical.

He raised his hand and pointed. Outside of his mind he heard folk move and watched as glowing bodies of threads shifted away from him, all but Daryl.

"You can come out now, Harry."

"I can't find the source," Harry murmured.

"We'll figure it out."

"Another Wizard or Witch has to be around here."

"Harry." A tight grip jolted him right out of his aura-reading and he dropped back against Daryl's arm.

"I was fine," Harry sniped.

Daryl heaved him onto his feet and Harry swayed slightly. "Fine my ass."

"Shut up."

A commotion sounded from the kitchen. Daryl stepped in front of him, crossbow at the ready. Glenn and Maggie dragged two men out, dumping them against a wall.

Fred kicked the last of the men further out into the cafeteria. Rick followed him, glaring at the cowering prisoners. "Found them hiding back there, along with a ton of supplies."

From behind Daryl, Harry studied the three men in prisoner jump-suits. One was a huge giant, but strangely enough, Harry found he was the least intimidating of the three, the way he held himself was almost like a huge oak tree that could be hidden behind. If he smiled, Harry was sure it would have been a very kind smile. Whatever had happened to him to lock him up in a prison?

The other African American was spindly, like wire, and if Fred had not been nearby, with his machete in hand, Harry was positive he would have been hiding in some shadow some-place, eyeing them all anxiously. The third could have passed for a Muggle relative of the Weasley clan, a skittish, creepy red-haired and blue-eyed man with skin to sickly pale it was worrisome. Harry frowned. They must have been locked up in here for a long time.

Rick's cop instincts must have been on high-alert, his hand was resting on his holstered gun, and he was holding himself in such a manner of authority that Harry knew even in that moment he would have obeyed anything the man said.

"Please…don't…hurt us," the red-haired man squeaked out.

Rick's glower landed on him, causing him to back up a step, only to meet the tip of Fred's machete.

"Who are you?" Rick barked. "Answer, now!"

"Axel," the man blurted out. "I'm Axel, and…and…he's Big Tiny," he pointed to the giant, "and Andrew."  
The spindly man, Andrew, rolled his eyes. "Great."

"These men," Harry motioned to the dead prisoners, "did you know them?"

"Tomas and Oscar." Big Tiny breathed out. "Oscar was a good man."

Harry narrowed his lips. "Do you know who did this?" The question caused all three of them men, even the hardened Andrew, to look violently ill, sweat forming around their collars. Harry stepped forward.

"Listen, it is really important we know this."

"You're a fucking kid, I don't take orders from kids," Andrew snapped.

Rick's gun was suddenly in the man's face. "Answer his question. It's apparent you three don't know shit about what's going on."

Axel bit his lips. "Ye…es…we…we saw…""

Harry's throat constricted. "Man or woman?"

"A man, I think. He was dressed all weird, and had long white hair, so it was sorta…hard to tell, but he had a…manly voice, I suppose."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Could be a wizard. Any indication of his age?"

"Errr…" Axel glanced too Big Tiny, who simply shrugged his huge shoulders.

"Well, maybe in his thirties, but with that hair, hard to tell."

Fred lowered his machete, and Harry noticed him relax slightly. "Not Dumbledore then, good."

"Yeah." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Imagine the shit if that happened—"

Harry seized his chest as his aura sight flared. His whole body twisted involuntarily toward the door.

"Skye!" His shout was too late, far too late. By the time the word had left his mouth, Skye had already skidded across the floor.

Harry's eyes widened in horror. Blood, blood everywhere. Had that been a cutting curse? Panic seized his limbs as Daryl started running for his unconscious friend, right into the line of invisible fire. His wand was in his hand. Harry knocked Daryl aside with a stupefy, the hunter slammed against a wall, missing the cutting curse aimed for him. Skidding on his feet Harry snagged Skye's fallen gun, running past Daryl.

"Harry! Harry you get back here right now!"

He knew he was going to be in serious trouble for not stopping at the bellowed shout from the hunter. He had not heard such a shout from the man before, and it sounded very much what he expected from an adult infuriated at a disobedient teenager, but he had been a disobedient teenager for a long time—he was not about to stop being one now, not when there was a Wizard down here who was throwing around deadly dark curses at his family.

Skye. Damn it. If Skye was dead—

Anger fuelled his run as he plunged into the dark corridors, following the magical aura. The royal purple glow was tainted with a sickly slime, and he knew he was facing a Death Eater. Only Death Eaters had such a taint, their magical core's bound to Voldemort with a terrible, bitter curse. He would have felt sorry for them, if they had not done it to themselves.

A hot blaze of a spell kissed past his cheek as he swung himself around a corner, only his heightened seeker skills saving his life as he dodged and rolled, landing behind an unturned table. Blades splattered over the wood. Harry winced as one nicked his arm. He set the table on fire and slammed it down the corridor with a stupefy, hearing whoever his opponent was shout in fury. The table burst, flames erupting down the corridor. Harry flung out a shield, running past the debris. The smoke burned his eyes, but as he stood in the light cast by the flames, and faced his opposition, everything stilled. It could barely have been a second, but it felt drawn out, like time stretched.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted. The next words out of his mouth were instant. "Avada Kedavra!" Green light lit the corridor. A shield smacked it aside. He heard crazed laughter. Harry dodged to one side as a cabinet was flung at him. He transfigured it into feathers, and those feathers into knives, sending them back at the wizard in a volley.

"You piece of shit, Malfoy. Come back here so I can beat you bloody!"

"Little Harry Potter, using dark curses." It was a taunting whine.

"I'll use a lot more on you. Don't think I wouldn't, but I'll keep you alive and drag you in front of your son, and I'm pretty sure he'll enjoy shooting you full of muggle bullets."

Lucius started laughing, hysterically, and Harry would have lowered his wand in alarm if he had been any younger.

"Draco is alive!" Lucius staggered back. "What wonderful news."

Harry gulped. He clutched at his wand. He could taste blood in his mouth and realized he had bitten through skin on his lips. With a yell he charged forward sending deprimo down the corridor. The ceiling rattled at the blast of wind. Lucius was flung back. Harry lost him in the darkness, hearing only his footsteps. He followed, skidding to a halt in shock at the sight of Walkers strung upside down by levicorpus spells.

"What the hell? Malfoy!"

Slashing back and forth, shouting sectumsempra with each swing, he dealt with the offending Walkers and charged on through. The corridors he was running down were beginning to become increasingly unstable, the ceilings waterlogged, the walls crumbling and his boots impacted uneven ground, sometimes with tuffs of grass and weeds showing. Daylight was ahead of him, and Lucius stood at an entrance blasted into the prison wall. He was hacking at Walkers desperately, in a manner Harry had never seen someone with the name Malfoy ever act. He had one chance at this, he would never again get a chance to capture Lucius Malfoy in this bedraggled, confounded state ever again. Twisting his grip on his wand Harry shouted out sectumsempra. Lucius countered with a protego and Harry dodged, wincing as he collected the ground. Lucius lunged down, vanishing beyond the broken wall.

"No." Harry spat. "You are not running from me, Malfoy."

He pointed to the nearest Walker Malfoy had not dispatched and murmured, "Expulso."

It had no soul. He had to tell himself. It was no longer Human. He had to assure himself. It was an object. His magic accepted that fact.

The expulsion sent him hauling backward, and something ripped into his side as he rolled away, heat shearing his skin, bricks and ceiling foam raining down around him. He gritted his teeth, grinning manically, hoping that Lucius was feeling just as much pain in this moment. Coughing out blood Harry blinked away dust and tears. His glasses felt broken, but it was hard to tell in the total darkness. He cast a lumos and peered around.

"Damn it." Harry cursed, dragging himself up on bloodied fingers. The entrance was sealed, bricks and metal crumbling still, but most of it sizzling from the heat of the magical blast. He coughed away dust, grateful he had not been standing under the sizeable hole when he had bought it down. Guess it did solve the problem of the break in the prison, but still—he slammed his fist down—Lucius _had_ got away. Draco was going to be—well—well—he was going to be either furious or incredibly melancholy, and either one was as bad as the other.

Harry winced, finally coming to the sensation that something was really hurting in his side. He raised his hand, feeling his chest, encountering blood that had already soaked through his shirt and jacket. He froze in sudden horror as his fingers brushed around something metal.

"Oh, no." Harry choked. "Please. No." He looked down, expecting to find a metal pole through his stomach, but thankfully, it was sticking out just beside him, and he lay near it. All right, he was not pinned, it had just grazed him and he was bleeding. Thank the Lady. He dropped his head back, relaxing. The moment was disturbed, his whole body tensing as moaning caught his ears and he jerked up, coming face to face with a Walker. Harry smacked his hand against its chest, shoving it away as he scrambled back in a panic. Three more were clambering over the rubble toward him. His eyes widened. He could not cancel his lumos and use his wand, he could not use his wandless magic—wait—he had a gun! He struggled for the weapon and bought it up, aiming for the first Walker.

"Harry!"

Rick slammed the Walker against the wall, his knife through its skull. Glenn and Maggie bashing in the heads of the other three. Their leader was at his side, worriedly checking him over and Harry flopped back, ready for the lecture. It never came. Rick simply heaved him up, causing him to cry out.

"He's in bad shape."

"You think!" Harry hissed.

"Daryl!" Glenn shouted. "Get your ass over here, Bambi's done it again."

"Hey, hey, I blocked off the breach," Harry protested.

"And bought half the damn prison down around yeh." Maggie's shot him a glare. "Who was that man? Yeh went after him like a mad-man."

Harry flinched as Rick started cutting away at his shirt. He caught sight of Daryl jogging down the corridor. Oh this was going to be just great, just, freaking, great. Daryl was never, ever—EVER—going to let him out of his sight again.

"He was a follower of Voldemort, the Dark Lord. Totally crazy nutter. No idea how he ended up here. Super bad tosser. Don't ever, ever go near him. He's…ah…also…Draco's old man."

"Oh, shit." Glenn rubbed his brow.

"Yeah," Harry grumbled. He cringed as Daryl stomped up and crouched beside him. The man was scowling, but under the scowl was knitted worry, deeply engrained in the dirt that smudged his face. Harry sucked in a deep breath. He had never expected anyone other than Sirius to look so concerned about him. It almost made him feel guilty for putting him through so much—almost.

"Bambi," Daryl growled out. "We're going to need tah have a serious discussion about you running off after crazy stick-welding lunatic's."

Harry managed a grin. "I just follow the examples of those around me."

Rick snorted a laugh. "Let's get back to the cafeteria. Those poor inmates are going to need to be filled in on the whole…end of the world…situation."

"Wait…" Harry choked out, grabbing at Daryl's vest. "Skye. What about…what about Skye?"

He had no idea the hunter's expression could ever look so warm, so friendly, so endearing. His cheek was gently brushed, and he realized he had been crying again. Harry blinked at the dust in his eyes. "Daryl, what about Skye?"

"He's fine, Harry."

"But, but it was a cutting curse!"

"Yeah, and it really cut him up," Glenn spat out. "But the dude's got body armour, kiddo. Like, military grade."

"W…what?" Harry spluttered. "But a cutting cruse…it's supposed to cut…anything?"

"Well, guess us mundane's are a bit more awesome than you think." Daryl smirked and heaved him up. He was getting blood all over his vest, but Daryl never did seem to mind the blood. "Come on. If you don't believe us, we'll show you."

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Sitting on a table in the cafeteria, Harry clutched at his wounded side. The bleeding had stopped, but Daryl's eyes were still fierce blades cutting into him. He almost feared them more than any bleeding wound. The hunter was with Rick and Glenn, talking to the three living inmates about the whole end-of-world situation, and Fred was with Maggie looking over the stockpile of more supplies.

Skye sat beside him on a chair, tending to his own wounds, and the man looked like shit. There was no other word for it, serious damage had been done, but true to his family's words—the man was, well, alive.

"Draco is going to be pissed to be making more blood replenishing potions so soon," Harry grumbled. "They're really difficult to make."

"Rough luck." Skye finished a bandage. "If there is one thing I don't want, it is to die of an infection due to this."

Harry frowned. "I suppose you're right."

Skye raised an eyebrow. "If what Rick say's is right, and we're all infected, then it isn't the Walker's bites and scratches that kill us. It's something else. We've already got the pathogen. Also, ever noticed how we can get totally covered in their blood and that does nothing?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Wow. I never…I never thought about that…"

Skye rested back with a long sigh, his whole body sagging. Harry winced. He must have been in pain. He turned to the potions kit Draco had given him, trying to sort through it, but found nothing that would have helped either of them. It was irritating, but magic was not always going to be the answer and living with pain and wounds was simply their reality now.

"Why do you think that is?" Harry piped up. "If it isn't the Walkers themselves then…"

"Well," Skye rubbed his chin, "have you ever heard about how cat and dog bites can get really badly infected because they have bad bacteria in their mouths, same goes for Humans. If a Human bites you, it can get infected as well due to the bacteria in our mouths."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Could be likely the same with being scratched by a Walker. It's skin that becomes broken, an area where infection can enter." Skye leant forward, a frown creasing his lips. "I have a feeling it has more to do with the disease decreasing our immune system, allowing for infections to easily enter, that causes the triggering event in the brain that turns us into Walkers."

Harry touched his wounded side. "So technically, you're saying, we could actually die from any sort of wound, or any sort of…say…flu or…the chicken pox, because this disease has…" Harry searched for a word, "eroded our immune system?"

Skye shrugged. "Just a hypothesis, but it had to start somewhere. We should be very careful when we're wounded, to keep our wounds clean of infection."

"Right," Harry nodded. "We have no idea what could trigger off the event in the brain. Gotcha."

He knew it was a warning. Skye was warning him to be more careful. He wondered if the man was doing it for Daryl's sake, probably. It was as though just thinking of Daryl bought the man over. Harry bit his lips as the hunter eyed him. Trying to prove that he was fine, Harry slid off the table, only to end up wincing in pain.

Daryl grabbed his shoulder.

"I'm fine, honest." He smiled. "I've had worse."

"I don't doubt it, Bambi, but yeh not supposed to almost die every day. It's not good for my health."

Harry smirked. "I couldn't care less about your health."

"I feel the love." Daryl turned to Skye. "Sam's going to throw a fit. You do realize I'm the one she's going to beat up for this right?"

Skye flapped a hand about. "I better not die then, heh."

"Don't joke about it." Daryl snapped. "I ain't raising your kid for you."

"Yes you are. Pops."

"Shut up, asshole."

Harry smiled faintly as the two began a match of insults that simply ended in them both swinging fists, only for Skye too keen over in pain and Daryl looking defeated and shamed.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hey Dear Readers,_

 _Sorry for this late update but I had my knee operation yesterday so I've been a bit queasy and out of it and my knee is ouchy, ouchy. Hopefully it fixes the problem though, fingers crossed.  
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and hello to all the new followers, thanks for joining the journey._

 _I hope you all enjoy the new update._

 _Keep well,  
Have a lovely rest of the week,_

 _Cheers,_

 _Hakura-Shir_

 _18/10/16_

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 **Chapter 10**

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Draco sat on his bed listening to Sam's tears. Her reaction to Skye's wounds had been—well—he guessed what he rather expected an emotional pregnant woman's reaction to be. Daryl had expected her to yell and hit him for getting her husband hurt, but she had sort of collapsed with weak knees making Harry go into his obsessive worried state all over again. Draco laughed into his sleeping bag, letting it muffle his mirth. Merlin. Harry was such a worrier.

His stomach ached, clenching tighter.

His friend's bright green eyes, so Slytherin it was frightening sometimes, haunted him in his little hideaway cell. They had not been filled with pity when he had spoken about Lucius, they had been filled with unbridled rage. So much wrath it had almost alarmed him. Rage for him—Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter, the Golden-Boy-Who-Lived was angry for him of all people.

Oh. The hilariousness of such a paradoxical situation.

He stroked a hand through his oily hair, gripping at his scalp in a desperate attempt to stop his hand from shaking.

"Draco…"

His head snapped up. Standing at the door was Beth. She carried a little magical light in the palm of her hand, it managed to make her look sweeter and more delicate than usual. His eyes widened, surprised not just by her sudden arrival at his cell door, but by the thought in his head. He scrubbed at his sleepy eyes.

"Hey, Beth, is it Ron?"  
"No, no, Hermione is with him, and my Father. I thought I should check up on you. It sounded pretty awful, that thing with your Dad?"

Draco slid out of his sleeping bag, swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk. Beth stepped into his cell, careful around Skye and Sam's bundle of blankets and clothes.

"It's just the way it is."

"You going to be okay, though, right?"

He tried to smile. It was hard to deny that he felt immense hatred for what his father had done—killed his mother and then survived the dead rising—but even so, all the training he had gone through growing up, learning to put aside his emotions, had made it easier to function. Still, he was not quite sure what he would do if ever he was actually confronted with his father.

"I'm fine."

"That's what people say when they're not actually fine."

"I promise, Beth, I'm fine."

Her lips narrowed. "Okay."

Sliding off the bed, Draco approached her. "I should check on Ron. Skye and Sam might need some privacy tonight anyway."

Beth giggled. "How kind of you. You could bunk with me and my Dad?"

"Your Dad scares me." Draco winced. "I think I'd rather risk pissing off Daryl any day."

She laughed, just like what he imagined a pixie would sound like, sweet and cheerful. "The day Daryl isn't scary. It's happened. It's finally happened. My Dad is scarier than Daryl. The horror! I'm never going to find a boyfriend."

"Never," he assured. "Never, ever. Between all the over-protective men in this group, you have no hope."

Another laugh bubbled out of her. "Yeah, well, we'll see about that."

With a hand on the curve of her back he guided her out of the cell and down Block C. Rick had still not quite figured out what to do with the inmates they had found, but he was sure the man would eventually think of something inhumane. It was not as if they could very well just turn them loose, could they?

Passing by the cell were Lori and Carl were holed up Draco paused, causing Beth to pause a few steps ahead of him. Her pale eyes anxiously sought his as he turned from the vision of Carl wrapped up in a blanket, tightly bundled up against the wall furthest away from his mother lying in the bottom bunk.

His chest clenched. Where the hell was Rick right now? To hell with the Walkers. The man had a perfectly good son he was ignoring.

"Draco…"

"Yeah." Draco crinkled his nose distastefully, catching Beth's hand. If Rick was not going to watch out for his son, then someone else was going to have to do it for him.

In the cell that had become almost a medical wing, expanded through more of Hermione and Luna's rune work, Ron lay on a bunk. Still he had not woken.

Draco slipped in. The silence was uneasy in the dim light hanging from the ceiling. He was glad for their magic, glad they could make light for the prison, or their world would be so dark without Hermione's weird electricity of the mundanes. The young witch sat beside Ron's bed, hunched over a book.

Hershel sat at a nearby desk, hunched over a potions book of all things. He looked up at their entrance and shuffled to his feet, stirring Hermione.

Draco settled a hand on her shoulder. "Did you get something to eat?"

She nodded. "But what about Ron, he hasn't eaten…"

It was beginning to become a serious concern, Ron not waking.

"Give it a few more days Hermione. His magic could be fighting an infection. It's not as if this amputation was done in clean conditions, and remember, even with blood replenishing potions, he still lost a lot of blood." Draco tried to assure her, but his own voice felt terribly flat.

"I know." She nodded. "I know. I just…when…when do you give up one someone."

"Never." Hershel crouched down beside her. "He will wake up."

That was what made Hershel Greene scary. His conviction.

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Luna carefully padded her way up the stairs, wrapped tightly in Daryl's poncho. The night air was crisp around her bare feet, but it was refreshing after the long day working with her shoes on. The soft murmuring voices of Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Remus and Carol drew her up, through the darkness of the watch-tower, toward the soft ebbing light of a magically-lit lamp sending out wisps of colourful mist. She rested her hand on a doorknob and carefully opened the door.

The voices paused as she poked her head through the small gap. The scene outside on the balcony made her wish she had a wizarding camera, to capture the moment forever. The way the moonlight and magical lantern invoked the peace that surrounded the friends, bundled in blankets, resting on chairs and mattresses pulled out from prison beds.

Glenn and Maggie sat to one side, the lovers never seeming far from each other's side. Remus looked utterly lost in thought, his gaze distant to the woods beyond their new home, but Luna could tell that truthfully his mind was on the woman beside him, leaning on the balcony railing, chatting to Daryl as he sat, crafting new arrows for his crossbow. Harry was sleeping, curled up in a little ball, head on Daryl's knee.

"Come out, Luna," Daryl drawled. "Saved you a spot."

She scooted through the door and carefully stepped over Maggie and Glenn.

"How are you this evening, Luna?" Remus sipped on a beer idly. She smiled as she sat down beside sleeping Harry.

"I am well, thank you Professor. Draco and I just finished a working on lots of potions. Sam came and insisted Draco goes to bed, so I thought perhaps I should as well."

"I am glad someone is thinking of Draco's health," Remus grumbled.

"Well, why don't you?" Carol raised an eyebrow. "You are their teacher."

"Familiarity, unfortunately." Remus shrugged. "Draco wouldn't listen to me if I told him to go to bed, he'd laugh and tell me we are not in school anymore."

"I gather it has been rather difficult for you and Sirius then, with all the kids?" Glenn asked.

"It had its moments. The first few months were very hard on all of us, not really knowing what was going on. Draco's whole life was turned upside down and Sirius handled that very well with the boy, they're both purebloods from Dark Families, they get along on a different level of understanding than the rest of us. If Draco would listen to anyone, hilariously enough, he would listen to Sirius simply due to his magic having to obey Sirius'." Remus snorted into his beer can. "Ron, Fred and George, and Ginny…they lost their family, but they did have each other to lean on. Harry has always been a lone wolf, and truly, so has Hermione…" Remus' eyes turned to her and Luna smiled.

"And I've always been special."

"Always Luna, my dear, always."

"Nevertheless," Carol rested her hand on Remus' shoulder, "I am sure it was not easy on any of them, and neither on you or Sirius."

Remus lowered his head. "I am glad that you folk came along, the kids needed some other adults in their lives."

"I think you and Sirius needed some other adults in your lives too." Maggie laughed. "Sirius and Rick are still down there having a deep and meaningful conversation."  
"Possibly." Remus' hummed, his gaze shifting over the balcony. Luna stood, poking her nose over the bars, looking down into the darkness of the courtyard, noticing the glow of another magical-lantern shifting back and forth. It lit the contours of both Sirius and Rick, walking back and forth around the perimeter of the fence line. She knitted her brow, catching just the thinnest sight of a silver thread between the two of them.

"Professor?"

"Hmmm, yes Luna?"

"I have a very bad feeling."

She heard Daryl shift suddenly and Harry squeaked as he came awake.

Remus' hand settled on her shoulder and she turned to look up into the man's grey eyes. They were comforting, and his hand was warm, she could always trust Professor Lupin to know what to say when she had her terrible feelings.

"Is this feeling a vision, Luna, or just a _feeling_?"

"I don't know, but it just got worse, looking and Rick and Sirius."

Remus' hummed in the back of his throat. "I wonder if it has anything to do with what they're currently talking about…"

"What do you mean?" Carol looked down at the two leaders.

"They're discussing reinforcing the fences, which is a very good idea but…first that requires a lot of work," Remus muttered.

"Work," Daryl shrugged. "That's all we do."

"More's the point." Carol raised an eyebrow. "You can hear them from down there?"

Luna giggled. "Professor Lupin can hear lots of things."

Remus rubbed a hand through his hair, smiling at her. "Don't worry too much Luna, I'll keep an eye on both Sirius and Rick."

She nodded, know that when Professor Lupin promised to do something, he always followed through on it. Carefully she turned back to Harry. He held out his hand to her, looking far too sleepy to really be invested in the conversation but likely he would remember it at some point and get awfully worried about it. She joined him on the mattress he lay on and she curled up against his chest, sharing the warmth of his blanket as Daryl cocooned them both in the pile once more. Harry sagged like a heavy sack, instantly asleep.

She heard Carol mutter, "Daryl, honestly, should you let them both sleep like that?"

"What? Hell, Carol, they're teenagers, give them some peace."

"It's inappropriate."

"Stop mothering them."

"Start fathering them."

"I am, watch. Luna, no sex with Harry until you're at least twenty."

Luna smirked into the blankets. "I don't think that will be a problem. He sleeps too much."

"See?" Daryl shorted back to Carol. "Not an issue. My fathering skills are brilliant."

Remus must have thrown his empty beer can at Daryl, for she heard him yelp something very inappropriate.

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Sirius peered through the darkness, down into the courtyard. Walkers lazed about, never resting, always groaning and grunting. He hated the sounds they made. It made his skin crawl, reminding him of the noises from fellow inmates in Azakban. His eyes drifted to the night sky and the scattering of stars, brilliant in their glow from the lack of light pollution. His chest swelled. That was one incredible thing about being alive now, the stars.

"Wish you were here, James…Lily…" he murmured.

He felt someone bump his shoulder gently. A beer can was shoved into his face. Rick stood beside him, staring up at the same sky, his gaze just as distant and thoughtful. Sirius accepted the beer gratefully, cracking it open and taking a sip.

"How's Skye doing?"

"Much better now that Draco's gotten some potions into him and Hershel's looked at his wounds. It was close, you know. If he hadn't been wearing that armour of his…" Rick shuttered. "You should see his armour, it's useless now."

"Thank Morgana he had it on."

"Said he's barely taken it off since the world went to shit."

"Shame Harry can't replicate it for all of us," Sirius grumbled. "Wish Professor McGonagoll was here, she could figure out how to transfigure the structure of anything mundanes made."

Rick sipped his own drink. "So, how we going to tackle tomorrow? Think us boys can take on the Walkers out there?"

"Should be able to I reckon. We've got to give T-Dog a proper burial. Hershel, Harry and Luna are all excited about starting a bloody garden." Sirius chuckled. "Should let them do that. It'll be good for the kids to have something else to do."

Rick hummed in agreement.

"Do you really think we can do it?" Sirius sighed, feeling gloom settle on his shoulders like a mantle. He just could not seem to shake it, the feeling that something dreadful was around the corner—perhaps it was made worse by Lucius Malfoy appearing out of nowhere. That was an ill omen if ever there was one. "Can we make this work, Rick, living here, I mean?"  
Rick sat himself down on a crate. "We can only try, Sirius." He blinked at the faint lumos that Sirius cast, placing his wand between them.

Sirius glanced toward the lookout tower, smiling faintly at the voices drifting down from the warm glow on the balcony. He could see the shifting shadows cast by the light of a magical lantern. Lupin waved to him and he lifted his hand, letting his old friend know he was there.

"Seems like everyone is getting along well enough." Rick sunk back with a long sigh. "See, it's working out already."

Sirius huffed. "Right, right, and the three prisoners you found, they're part of your grand plan?"

"Good point, we'll have to figure that out."

"Tomorrow." They clinked their cans together, repeating the word.

Tomorrow would surely bring a lot of new worries. Sirius sipped his beer. Their world never seemed to cease being full of things to concern themselves over. He watched as a Walker ambled past them in the darkness, it's sluggish movements betraying nothing of the deadliness it could muster when in a frenzy.

"We're going to have to do something about the fences." Sirius set his empty beer can down. "They might be enough to keep back a small amount of Biters, but, they'd not be enough to hold back a horde…and Lady forbid…we end up on the bad end of some other group."

Rick crossed his arms over his chest. "You honestly think things could get that bad."

"You don't?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at the ex-cop. "Come off it Rick, I can tell you don't trust easily. The only reason you decided to trust us was because we had kids with us."

"And you're magical, and Daryl liked Luna." Rick slumped. "Fine. But that's a lot of wall to build."

Sirius snorted. "You just said it yourself Rick, we're magical. Sure, I'm not a genius in transfiguration, but Remus and I did at least finish our education and I was an Auror. Harry's also got a knack for transfiguration. Get the right materials and we should be able to build some walls…." Sirius trailed off.

"What is it?"

"Problem is…" Sirius frowned. "The bigger the walls, the more obvious the target we are."

"Better to have walls, my friend." Rick looked out across the courtyard. "Then none at all."

"True point, true point."

"Back at Hershel's Farm, they…didn't have any defence against a horde that came through. I was pretty stupid, not…being prepared for…what happened." Rick sighed. "But I supposed I was pretty distracted." His gaze lingered at the night sky, his thoughts distant.

Sirius narrowed his lips. He knew he was pressing the issue, but it had been bothering him ever since they had run into the rag-tag group. "Your wife…what…happened?"

"It might not be my baby."

"Ah," Sirius sniffed, "I see."

"My best friend. I killed him."

"Yeah." Sirius looked out across the courtyard. Peter's childhood face haunted him, rising into his mind like a misty ghost formed from the tail-end coat of a Dementor. Peter—Peter had not been a bad kid, in the beginning, be had just been misled and lonely, and they had been so stupid not see it. "I sorta know something about that too."

Rick nodded slowly. "I figured you might. Sometimes, you can just tell."

Silence sat between them, weighing the air. It was like a switch, the moment Sirius could tell Rick clicked back into his cop and leader role, no longer the friend-drinking beer. It was quite something to watch, the way the man's whole body tightened as though struck with thousands of pins.

"The wizard Harry confronted, what can you tell me about him?"

"Lucius Malfoy?" Sirius rolled his shoulders. Just looking at Rick when he was in this state made him ache all over. "Well, he's Draco's old-man. If we do ever confront him, that is going to be an issue."  
"How so?"

"I know Draco seems like a nice lad, and he is, he really is, but he's like me. He's from a Dark Family…and we…we've got traditions. You don't betray your family. Draco sees his father as a traitor and his father sees him as a traitor. At some point their family magic is going to have to choose a new lord. Our best option would be to catch him alive and let Draco deal with him on his own terms."

"You don't sound very convinced about that."

Sirius glanced toward Rick, noticing his frown.

"No, I'm not. If there is one wizard out there is who worthy of the title warlock, it would be Lucius Malfoy. He will not be easy to bring down. It is likely that today he was already worn out and disorientated, otherwise…" Sirius breathed out. "He could have mowed down Harry and Fred without hesitation."

"But Harry seemed to hold his own pretty well."

"Like I said, it was likely Malfoy was already worn out. Don't get me wrong, Harry's a strong wizard, but matching up to Malfoy in a duel…" Sirius clicked his tongue, "Even I would shutter at that thought. I think Remus and I might have to start training with the kids again when we get the courtyard cleared."

"Sounds good." Rick nodded.

"I know Carl can't join in, but he's welcome to come along. He's a great kid. It'd be good for him to know what the others can do, how it could supplement his own skills. Team work is paramount for them to survive if anything happens to us."

Rick fingered his gun. "You've given this serious thought."

"Remus and I had to." Sirius shook his head, "The idea that one of us, or both of us, would die crossed our minds constantly. Kept us up at night. Still does. I'm glad we found you lot."

"Lori might not like it, but she doesn't really have much of a say anymore." Rick growled out. "Carl will enjoy being with the other kids."

"Speaking of Lori," another voice interjected suddenly, "she was very distraught today, Rick, about the baby. Carol and I had to assure her that the baby was alive."

"Remus?" Sirius stood, swinging around to face his friend emerging out of the dim light.

"Evening." Remus burrowed deeper into his coat. "How's the perimeter?"

"Everything looks good." Rick tipped his head in greeting. "How's everyone doing up there?" The cop completely ignored Remus' earlier comment.

Sirius resisted rolling his eyes. How long was it going to remain just simple conversations between Rick and Remus? It was like the two were tip-toeing around each other, wary of setting the other off.

"All is well." The smile his old friend managed was for him, as if Remus' was trying to assure him that he had not come to just be nosey—when he had, really, he had. "Carol is trying to berate Daryl about his new found fathering skills, I decided to leave before it got violent."

Rick chuckled. "Those two…well…I should go and check on Carl. Talk to you tomorrow, Sirius." The worn out ex-cop tipped his head in passing and if anything, as he passed from the light of the dim lumos spell, he looked ever more haggard as his shoulders stooped lower. Sirius self-consciously shrugged, curling deeper into his tatty coat. They all had their own burdens, each their own demons to ward off.

"Sirius, Luna's got a bad feeling…" Remus lingered by the fence. Sirius turned back toward his old friend, frowning at the sight of him. No matter how big the coats he wore were, it would never hide how frail his frame was, not how twisted his body had become from his transformations. He held himself so strong, with so much power thrumming under thin skin, but that strength was brought with incredible pain. Sirius squeezed the beer can in his hand, it crinkled.

"About what?"

"Just…be careful around Rick."

"Remus, he's a good man."

Remus' smiled faintly. "I know. I'm not saying he isn't. You're a good man too, Sirius. That's the problem." Remus' eyes glinted in the darkness, flickering the eerie yellow that still lingered soon after a full moon. "What do you think happens when two men of honor come together?"  
"We get stronger."

Remus snorted. "By the Lady, you are so naive."

"It is one of my finer attributes." Sirius beamed.

"I have no idea how I put up with you for so long at school."

"My dashing good looks and boyish charm."

His friend barked a laugh, and it was delightful to hear, lighting up the night more than any lumos ever could. Sirius felt a warmth under his coat, as if the laughter itself was magic, breathing heat into his old, tired bones.

He grew sombre. "You're a man of honor to Remus."

Remus shook his head as he passed by, patting Sirius' shoulder gently. "Sirius, if you thought that, you wouldn't have suspected me of being a follower of Voldemort back then."

The jab was still painful. It gutted him, even now. He should never have doubted his best friend, never have fallen into the vile trap of the Lights, thinking that all werewolves were naturally evil. He would never forgive himself for such a terrible mistake.

"Remus…"

"I know. I don't hold it against you, I promise, but it's true. You're a Dark, Sirius, and that does mean you have honor. We grey's, we're still the fence sitters, you know." He shrugged limply. "And despite my werewolf, I'll always be a grey, I have to be, for my own sanity."

Sirius hugged him. Remus was so much smaller when his arms were around him. Perhaps it was because he had just gone through a transformation, but he felt far more brittle, as if a large gust of wind would blow him over at any moment. Sirius murmured, "Please tell me you're eating."

Remus chuckled into his shoulder. "Don't worry. Carol noticed how thin I am. I think she's now convinced herself I'm her new project. It's rather nice, to be worried over by a beautiful woman again. Last time it was Lily…"

Pulling away Sirius wiggled his eyebrow. "Remus…a woman, is it possible—"

He was boxed firmly over the head. That was the end of that conversation. He knew better than to jibe Remus Lupin about his love life. It had never ended well. Nope. It had usually always ended with him and James sprouting black eyes for days and rumours all over Hogwarts.

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"Build a wall?" Harry mused as he bit into the honey coated bun Carol had made that morning. It tasted finer than anything a house elf had ever cooked at Hogwarts, but perhaps that was just because his stomach was growling something fierce that morning from all the energy he had expended running around after Draco's father. Daryl had forbidden him from leaving his bed to help in cleaning out the outer courtyard, leaving him cooped up, annoyed and grumpy.

That was, until Sirius and Rick had ducked in and brought him a very late breakfast.

Thank Morgana they had, he was beginning to think he had been forgotten about, but hell was he going to disobey Daryl and piss the man off again so soon after the whole battling Lucius Malfoy.

Harry frowned, looking between Sirius and Rick. Was Lucius Malfoy's appearance the reason why the two leaders of their little group suddenly wanted to build walls? Hogwarts had walls, rather impressive ones, with immensely powerful wardstones to fuel the magic if Ron's brother, Bill, had not been exaggerating his stories.

Harry loosed one of his legs, rubbing at his foot that had fallen asleep from its awkward position on the floor. If Lucius-bloody-Malfoy had randomly appeared was it at all possible that Hogwarts had survived the past year and a half?

"Yeah, a wall. A really sturdy wall, keep out the Walkers, and you know…other…nasty folk. Think it's possible, Bambi?" Rick leant forward, his expression far to hopeful.

Harry pouted, mostly at the nickname having caught on, but he left his mind shift through supplies, and possible transfiguration spells and their combinations. His hand shifted to his pocket and his tugged out his small, worn notebook.

"I suppose _anything_ is possible, sir. The issue we face is making the transfigurations last without the aid of a building wardstone. I worked out how to make transfigurations last on our food supplies by grounding the magic entirely to my own magical core, but I highly doubt I could do that to a whole building."

Sirius rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Wouldn't put it past you, kiddo."

"Be serious," Harry waved his notebook in the air, "Unless we can make a wardstone, this prison will never be a magical building."

"I know. I know." Sirius raised his hands in submission.

"None of us kids can make one, Sirius, and you can't with the condition of your magical core. A wardstone would naturally reject Remus' werewolf so he can't either. Perhaps the Twins could, but would you really risk the foundation of a building on them?"

"If I had too, yes." Sirius shrugged.

Harry sighed. He supposed in desperate times you called on desperate measures.

Rick leant forward. "What's a wardstone?"

Harry had to smile. Why he kept forgetting Rick was not magical he was not quite sure, but it just slipped his mind. Perhaps it was because the ex-cop blended so easily in with Sirius it was uncanny.

"It's like a grounding foundation for all the magic in a building that then acts as a conduit source. The bigger, or more magical the building, the more wardstones it requires to sustain the flow of magic through it and those dwelling within it."

Sirius set the cup he held down. "Legend has it that Hogwarts, our old school, was actually build into the side of a mountain, and the mountain itself was the wardstone that sustained the magic of the school which was why it was always called 'the safest place in Britain.'" He quoted with his fingers.

Harry chuckled. "Load of rot that was. Most dangerous place in all of Britain more likely."

Sirius sent him a sympatric glance.

Rick rubbed his bristled chin. "So we can't do this without a wardstone?"

Harry raked a hand through his hair. "Let me talk it over with the others first. If push comes to shove, there is always bloodwards. I mean, I gather Dark Magic rules don't matter anymore, so Draco and I can tap into our heritage of all the evil arts, right?"

Sirius snorted. "Whatever, kiddo. Just don't tell Remus."

Harry stood and saluted. "I'll let him know right away. Am I dismissed?"

Sirius ruffled his hair, sending him away. "Get going, brat."

Freedom, finally. Harry skipped past Sirius and Rick, out into the open area of C-Block. He waved to Carol and Lori, thanking them both for the meal. He was pretty sure that he if he hurried he could help Daryl clean out the courtyard of Walkers, or at least lend a hand getting of the bodies in the aftermath.

His mid-morning peace was shattered entirely as Hermione tore out of the cell that had become the makeshift infirmary. Beth followed her, calling her name, skidding to a halt when it became obvious she was simply not going to respond. Harry's eyes widened as Beth slowly turned toward him, her face ash white, sweat pooling around her collar bone.

"Beth?"

The girl hid her face in her hands. "Oh God."

A hand touched his shoulder, almost causing him to respond with a fierce backward movement to slam whoever it was against the nearby wall. He halted when the smell of potions assaulted his nose.

Draco. His body relaxed.

"It's Ron, isn't it…" Harry croaked out. "Is he…is he…dead?"

He forced himself to face Draco and his clear blue eyes. "No. He's not dead."

Harry clutched at his chest, relief flooding into his boiling lungs. He had not realized he had been holding his breath so tightly.

"But he may as well be."

"What? He's a Walker?!" He jostled up in shock, looking between Beth and Draco.

Draco's hand settled the curve of his back. "You need to see it for yourself, come on. Remus' is running some diagnostic charms."

A tremble beset him as he allowed Draco to lead him through the cell door, into the larger room that had become their infirmary. It was already beginning to smell like the Hogwarts infirmary, just mixed with mundane medicine, which was not surprising, considering Hershel was with them. It still evoked the nasty memories within him, and he fought to keep them back, wishing he was anywhere else right now—back in the cell he shared with Luna and Daryl, surrounded by the smell of pine needles and flowers.

Remus' was crouched by the bed Ron had been lying on, his wand glowing brightly in the middle of a spell. Hershel sat on the bed, propping up the thin, still sickly but very much alive Ron. Harry blinked and removed his glasses, cleaning them on his shirt, replacing them, and staring.

"He's not a Walker?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "He's alive. He woke up."

"What's wrong?"

"He doesn't remember who we are, he doesn't even remember who he is."

Harry gulped. Oh—Hermione, poor Hermione.

"Remus' thinks it's possible that to stop the infection his magical core went far beyond its limits."

Harry sagged. "I did this…"

"No," Draco gripped his shoulders. "No, Harry, you must not think that. You saved his life."

"Harry, Draco…" Remus' voice disturbed them before Harry could protest. They both shifted up, facing their old teacher. Remus' smiled weakly, waving them forward. Harry squared his shoulders, breathing in deeply and approached. Ron was not who he remembered, the few days he had lain on a bed, unable to eat, had drastically changed him and that was frightening, just to think that even a few days so ill could so easily alter someone who had been a constant in his life. The loss of his limb made very little impression in his mind, or perhaps he was forcing it not to, since he had been the one to remove it. He just hated how frail the usually strong, independent Ron appeared.

"As far as I can tell, his magical core protected his brain from the infection, and due to the overly long exposure to his own magic, he's lost…well…himself. It is highly likely he'll still recall how to speak, how to eat, and all the small things, as they stay with us, the larger things are simply gone."

"It is possible he may remember fractions of his childhood. We won't know until Fred and George come. He seems to respond to name Ron."

Harry rubbed is eyes under his glasses. "So by cutting off his arm, I didn't save him after all?"

Remus gently hugged him. "It is my belief that you did, and what transpired afterwards was secondary. We are unprepared here to care for injuries, and we need to be prepared, if this virus destroys our immune system and can kill us with a mere scratch then we are going to have to be far better prepared for medical emergencies."

"Especially if Lori and Sam are having babies," Draco mused aloud.

Remus' nodded. "Indeed. This is has simply pointed out how very vulnerable we are. Now, Harry…Ron is still your friend, that hasn't changed."

Remus' was not saying the words to weigh upon him, Harry knew that, but the immensity of the situation sagged upon his shoulders like a backpack full of bricks. "I know," Harry whispered.

"It is going to be strange for a while," Remus continued.

Harry looked down at his feet. "Yeah. Hermione might not…she might not recover from this one."

"That's okay." Remus' smiled. "We'll be here for both of them."

As much as Harry wanted to burrow deeper into Remus' coat, hiding away in the comforting arms of his old professor he pulled away and glanced toward Draco, who gave a firm nod. Together they approached Ron, sitting so still and quite on the bed, it was eerie.

"Hey…Ron…"

Ron looked up, blinking slowly, as though trying to focus on them both. Harry waved, smiling warmly.

"I'm Harry, and this is Draco."

"Hi."

"We're your friends." He firmly elbowed Draco in the stomach when the blond opened his mouth, sounding as though he was about to protest. "We've always been your friends. Always. Isn't that right. _Draco_."

"Oh, ah, yes. Best friends," Draco amended.

The smile that crept its way across Ron's sickly, pale face, brightening up the freckles, was worth the lie. Harry seated himself beside Ron. "Don't worry, mate, things are going to be fine." His words tasted like fine ash in his mouth—false and utterly disgusting.

Nothing was ever going to be fine again.

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As silent as Daryl could be Harry was never surprised when the man came back in from night-time watch with a loud thud and an exhausted sigh to slide down the back wall of their cell and collapse in a heap. Usually the man smelt of the sweat and dirt that stuck to him during the day, coating not just his skin, but his clothing as well. Tonight though that scent was masked by soap and Harry wrinkled his nose, rolling over in his bed to face the hunter hanging out his damp shirt and pants.

"Nice arse."

"Thanks Bambi."

"Luna's got a perfect view you know."

"Luna's asleep. She keeps normal hours. Unlike you."

"I learn from the best."

Daryl snorted and pulled on a spare pair of pants. The few one's he did own. Harry crawled up in his bed, sitting up against the wall. "How did the Walker extermination go?"

Flopping down on the mattress across the floor Daryl stretched. Harry took that brief moment to eye the man, taking note that he at least was not wounded from the little Walker extermination adventure. "Good. Cleared the courtyard. We can bury our dead now."

Harry nodded. "I heard the prisoners helped."

"I heard Ron woke up."

A huff escaped Harry's lips. He guessed Daryl was not in a talking mood tonight, maybe something had happened with the prisoners he was not happy about. Whatever it was, he was sure to learn about it in the morning from someone. Shuffling about in his pile of blankets and ratty sleeping bag Harry buried himself deep into the mattress. "He's lost his memories, it's like…he's another person."

"He'll be in there somewhere. Big day tomorrow, Bambi, go to sleep." Daryl rolled over. "Or I won't take you on the run."

Harry grouched at the threat. Daryl would go through with it, just out of spite. "You're the worst parent ever."

"I'm flattered."

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Harry felt his world tip. Sam—Sam was cradling her arm in a makeshift sling as she happily trotted around the so-called kitchen area Carol and Lori were always mulling about within. Despite how cheerful she looked, he could not help the sudden expanding anger that gripped him.

What the fucking hell? Who—when—where—

"Easy, Harry…" Daryl murmured, brushing against him, the steady feeling of the hunter's hand on the back of his neck settling the sudden rush of gooseflesh prickling over his arms. His breathing evened with a soft shutter.

"What happened?" he bit out.

"Just one of the prisoners, he wanted to play a bit rough."

"Rough?" Harry spat. "At least tell me he's dead!"

Daryl rubbed his eyes. Harry worriedly watched him turn, his shoulders slightly hutched. He looked far too tired, despite the few hours of sleep he had managed.

"Daryl! What happened?"

"I missed him."

"You missed…" Harry spluttered as Daryl grabbed his crossbow from the back of their cell.

"I was a little busy, Bambi, trying not to get overwhelmed with Walkers, with a pregnant woman in my arms. Yes. I missed. He got away."

Sagging against the cell door Harry stared down at his trembling hands. "But…but what do we do? What if he comes back—"

"The little fuck ran into a bucket-load of Walkers; I highly doubt he survived."

"Yes, but…"

"Harry," Daryl handed him his bottomless bag, "it's happened, it's done. Move on. Focus on today."

"Where's Skye?"

"He is doing some training with Ron."

"Training?"

"Hmmm, yes," Sam nodded, handing him the lunch pack, "Your friend might have lost his memories, but his fine and gross motor skills are still all there. Skye is trying to tune them with Fred, to see if it triggers anything off. It's something Skye can do while he's recovering." Sam smirked. "Trust me, he's griping something awful about not going on that run with Daryl. So, hop along, take this lunch for Hermione too."

"She's coming?" Harry grinned.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "She needs the distraction and her magic seems to have recovered enough. Go and get us some good stuff, Bambi. Remember, I want cute little boy clothes for my son."

"You have no idea if your kid is a boy!" Daryl's shout sounded from the far off door.

Sam bellowed back. "Remus told me."

"Fuck the wolf."

"Take a ticket and line up, Carol is defiantly going to give it a go."

Harry quickly left as Carol threw a ladle toward Sam in protest. He had no desire to get caught up in whatever fight the two women would end up in, especially if it involved launching kitchen utensils at each other.

Harry crinkled his face as daylight blinded him. He bumped into Daryl's back, stumbling slightly. The smell of burning bodies assaulted his nose and he forced back a gag. Smoke was rising from the outer courtyard where he noticed the two surviving prisoners and Rick were watching the pile of burning Walkers. How long would it be before their world was empty of the stench of the dead?

Puffing out sharply Harry jogged after Daryl as the man headed toward the land-rover. Glenn slammed the bonnet down, wiping greasy hands on his jeans.

"We're good to go."

Daryl heaved open the land-rover's door and Harry promptly clambered in. Sitting in the back Hermione clutched her duffle bag tightly to her chest. Harry slid in beside her, resting a hand gently against her knee. Her eyes flickered to his face in the briefest glance. By the heavy shadows bagging the skin of her cheeks, he doubted she had slept at all the night prior. Was taking her own a run really a good idea when she almost looked like a Walker herself?

"How you holding up?"

Her lips compressed and suddenly her head dropped to his shoulder. "I'm just so tired of it all, Harry."

"I know." His arm instinctively encased her. "So am I."

She didn't deserve this. Neither did Ron. His chest ached with the desire to just wipe it all away, to bring back the life they had once had, the happiness they had all shared in Hogwarts—he would even face Voldemort for his friends if it meant seeing their smiles again.

Daryl rocked the four-by-four as he joined them, and while his brief glance eyed Hermione's exhausted condition and her place tucked against his shoulder, he made no comment. The hunter hardly needed to speak, everything he said he always said with his eyes and the small twitches of his lips. Harry jerked suddenly as Sirius slapped the side of the land-rover and leant through the window.

"You kids stay safe, okay, listen to Daryl."

"Like we'd listen to Glenn." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" Glenn laughed. "If Daryl gets killed, I'm leader after him."

"You're kidding, right?" Hermione waved a hand, "Maggie totally trumps you."

Maggie grinned, throwing Hermione a wave from the front seat. "Why thank you Hermione. Come on, honey, drive...let's not waste this gorgeous sunshine."

Glenn groaned. "Everyone is out to get me today."

Rick greeted them at the gate to the prison, Carl bouncing beside him. Harry leant out the window, slapping Carl's outstretched hand in greeting.

"Stay out of trouble while we're gone."

"Don't get bit." Carl shouted as he heaved on the heavy gate, rolling it open. Harry peered back over the seat, watching father and son fade through the trees. He felt a little relieved upon noticing Rick's hand settling gently on Carl's head. Perhaps not everything was going to be a total disaster if they kept sticking together.


	11. Chapter 11

_Hello Dear Readers,_

 _I hope this update finds you all well.  
So…  
Who is excited for Season 7 of The Walking Dead?! ME! I am! Oh my gosh! OHHHH MY GOSH!  
It's finally here… *breathes out*  
I have no one around to talk to about my insane geeky love of The Walking Dead (or other pop-culture stuff for that matter) so I've had to contain my squeals today. I am both terrified and excited. Please, please don't let Daryl, Glenn or Michonne die. Please. *sobs* _

_Okay. Okay. I'll be fine._

 _Well, hope you all enjoy this update._

 _Have a wonderful week,_

 _Cheers,_

 _Haruka-Shir_

 _23/10/2016_

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 **Chapter 11**

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The white walls. The perfect beds. The clean windows with pretty curtains. Washed carpet under Neville's heavy, dirty boots was pristine. This room was far too untouched for the new world. It was all strange, foreign and oddly sickening. It was made all the worse by the fact that it was Muggle, and he had never been in a place that was all Muggle before the infestation of the undead. It left Neville confused. All he had known of the Muggle world had been a world in ruins. To be thrust into a Muggle world looking so—so—so—undamaged—it felt like a dream within a dream.

Neville clenched his fists. This place was untrustworthy in its perfection.

Michonne's touch fluttered softly over his shoulder, making the tension he felt uncoil. He glanced up from his spot leaning on one of the medical beds. She was just as worried as he was, for her brow was knitted in long, deep lines that where usually only shown whenever she was truly concerned for their welfare.

"Why does the air taste weird?" he inquired.

"That is the antiseptic."

"The…the _what_?"

She smiled, brushing back his long hair from his eyes, briefly pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It destroys germs, keeps things sterile. It is used often in hospitals and medical places. I am not surprised, considering your upbringing, that you have never encountered it."

"It stinks." He crinkled his lips. "And I can taste it too."

"Perhaps you are more sensitive to it."

"This whole place gives me the creeps."

"I like it here." Andrea's murmur bought them both instantly to her bedside.

Neville grabbed for her hand under the bedspread and grasped it tightly to his cheek. She was still pale, but a flush had returned to her cheeks. No longer was the fever burning her up. The Muggles had done what he had been unable to do, and he supposed, for that, he should have been grateful—but he just—he just could not bring himself to like them.

Perhaps he was too much like Draco Malfoy after all.

"You're only saying that because they helped you," he grumbled.

"And you're being a snobbish little lord."

"So? I am a Lord. If I think a place is not worthy of my vassals, then it isn't."

Andrea brushed his cheek. "You are the sweetest, Neville."

"I just…want you both safe." He bowed his head. "You're…all I have."

Andrea opened her mouth, "Nev—"

The door to the room opened. Neville watched Michonne reach for her sword, coming up short for it, and heard her hiss in frustration. He was just as irritated that his array of weapons had been gutted from his person. He felt naked. It was that horrible, plummeting feeling of being without a wand all over again. His hands twisted into fists as the Governor stepped into the room. He was proud, aloft, owning the very ground he walked on. He put pureblood wizards to shame with a simple tilt of his chin.

Neville cocked his head, an echo of his grandmother's voice resounding in his mind, telling him to throw back his shoulders and glare down his prey. There was time for stalking like a lion and time for frontal approach, she would always say. This called for a glare.

The Governor entered with two other men. One had been with him in the clearing with the downed helicopter, by the way he held himself, he must have been some sort of military man, or at least a second-in-command sort. The other was, well, Neville raised an eyebrow just slightly—he was almost looking at himself if he had never been flung into the wilderness and landed amongst Walkers, having to learn to defend himself without a wand. The man was a skittish, worried, bubbling mess of nerves and it was truly terrifying to behold someone like he had use to be—what was he even doing alive?

"Governor. Thank you for your hospitality." Andrea shuffled up further in her bed, smiling brightly at the Governor.

Neville repressed the urge to vomit then and there. _Morgana_ , please—did—did Andrea like him? No. Nope. NO. Scrub that image from his head before he died on the spot.

"It is not a problem. Our home is open to all those who need aid."

"So, our weapons?" Neville tapped his belt. "And my med-kit, some of the stuff in there is really…ah…volatile."

"He's a chemist," Andrea offered quickly.

"Bit young to be a chemist." The skittish man inched forward, pushing his glasses gently with his knuckles in a nervous habit.

Neville flashed him a glance. "So? Your point?"

"We will return your medical supplies to you, young man, but your weapons will have to be stored. It makes our people very anxious," the Governor interjected.

Neville frowned at the sickly sweetness behind his tones, how he pressured the words about his people, and their anxiety, as if they were more important than he was. _Morgana_ , this man made Snape seem soft in his adoration for Slytheirns.

Neville folded his arms stoutly. "Couldn't care less about your people." He wanted so badly to sneer, but he kept back the snark with an upward tilt of his head, hoping it would be just as off putting. "Makes me anxious to be without my knives."

"Neville, we are guests here." Andrea touched his arm lightly. "And they've helped me."

He sighed, flapping a hand about in dismissal. Fine. He would submit. Honestly, he was such a pushover for his substitute parents.

He just barely caught the tiny smirk on the Governor's lips and had to supress the urge to snarl. There would be hell to pay if the man dared to think he could touch Andrea in her weakened emotional state. If he had his wand right now this conversation would have already been over.

"So, I believe introductions are in order." The Governor raised his hand. "I am the Governor."

"Just, the Governor?" Andrea tested.

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, I'm Andrea, this is Neville and Michonne. Thank you so much for your help. We are incredibly grateful, aren't we Neville?" Andrea stressed his name.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Yes, we are so grateful."

Inwardly, he supposed he was somewhat grateful for the care they were giving Andrea, because he was unable to cure her with his measly potion skills and he had no wand, but he hated the feeling that they had just walked themselves right into a mouse trap.

The Governor held out a hand to him, as if he was the man of the house and needed to be the one addressed. It was most hilarious, considering Michonne usually always got in the last say on any of their little group debates.

He took the offered hand anyway, feeling the scarred texture of the Governors skin. He was no pansy, that was for sure.

"You are a long way from home, lad."

"Because I'm British?" Neville frowned. "You do realize it is possible for me to have been here when the undead started rising. I was here on a school trip. As Andrea likes to remind me, I'm a rich, snobbish little British lord."

The Governor wandered around the room, and Neville followed his movements with sharp eyes. He was being equally studied, which surprised him that the Governor was so obviously doing thus. Did the man actually see him as a threat—him—little Neville Longbottom. Neville raised an eyebrow, well, perhaps in the year and a half that had passed since he had been flung away from his friends he had changed a bit.

Maybe—maybe more than a bit.

Would they even recognize him now?

"The rest of your classmates then?"

He hated having to say it when it bought back the memories. "We got separated in the chaos."

"I see."

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Really, the way you talk, I would have thought you older."

"I was trained to be an annoying arse when I wanted to be, sir, a perfect gentleman when I needed to be, a child when it was called for, and at the moment, I'm surviving. You wear whatever mask fits for the occasion, wouldn't you agree?"

The man's lips tweaked with the thinnest of smiles. It disguised something slimy, an undercurrent of patronizing snark. This Governor felt like the worst combination of Dumbledore's all-seeing eyes, Professor Lockhart's narcissism and Professor Snape's intimidation tactics. Neville rubbed his thumb and fingers together, hiding the building sweat. Draco would have been so much better at this, but at least he had managed to hold his own against a man who surely had the same training as pureblood wizards. Whoever the Governor had once been, he had obviously been someone who knew how to hide his true nature. With the collapse of the world—perhaps his real nature had come out.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Have you finished your twenty questions, _Governor_?" He rather liked how the title rolled over his tongue in a mockery, his accent only adding to the snide. It was so delightful, channelling his inner Snape.

The Governor sugary smile blazoned far to brightly, forced until his lips reached his cheek bones. "Yes. Yes. Sorry. It is just always interesting to have new people around."

Neville inwardly snorted.

"So, may I ask a question, where are we?" he queried.

"Of course, terribly sorry…" The Governor walked a few paces toward the window, the blinds shut against the daylight. He swept them open and Neville squinted as sunlight spread into the room. Michonne followed him as he hesitantly stepped toward the view into the outside world yonder the glass panels. He hesitated to call it a thriving, it was not a thriving street like Diagon Valley had always been a bustling hive, nor even remotely like the streets of the wizarding towns his grandmother and he had enjoyed frequenting, but in comparison to what he was used to in the new world of the dead—the street outside was thriving.

"Welcome to Woodbury." The Governor sounded so proud, there was no denying the joy in his words.

Yet it made Neville's skin crawl, the false normality of the single long street. People mingled together, doing—well—he supposed things that Muggles did, but he had never really seen Muggles do anything before the rising of the undead. He had no bearing to judge them on, and yet, the whole set up felt like they were playing house. It was as though he was standing in the middle of Malfoy Manor, trying as hard as he could to pretend he was not in enemy territory, and Draco Malfoy was talking to him like he was his best friend, and he in turn, was doing the same.

"Well, this is shit," Neville muttered.

Michonne glanced toward him with a frown, but from the look in her eyes, she was just as uncomfortable as he was.

The Governor stepped back toward the door, inclining his head.

"You are welcome to stay here, please, feel free to roam during the day, but we have a curfew at night, for the safety of our people, you understand."

"Thank you so very much for your hospitality." Andrea practically gushed.

Neville bit his lips, trying not to barf.

"Once you are feeling better," the Governor opened the door, and like an obedient puppy the timid little man behind him followed, "we will move you to a better location, but I for now, I think it best you remain in the infirmary. Get better soon."

The door clipped shut. Neville glared at the departure of the three men. He had a sinking feeling that they would continue to be watched from somewhere and his hand twitched, wishing for his wand. He could feel his magic burning under his skin, needing to be released in a spell of privacy.

He just could not take this—

"Neville." Michonne's hand settled on his shoulder and Neville startled. His whole body felt a sudden, dramatic rush like a flood of water released from a dam, flowing out of his feet, into the ground. He sagged heavily against the bed, exhausted.

"Sorry." He squinted, rubbing at his eyes.

Michonne tweaked his chin fondly.

"We can't let them know about your magic Neville." She stepped away from the window.

"Are we going to be suspicious of everyone?" Andrea shuffled in the bed, eyeing them both with aspiration. "This could be a good thing?"

"Andrea." Neville frowned. "Don't you sense it? This place is…there is something very wrong here."

She sighed. "Alright, alright, if you're both that freaked out, I'll listen, but I want to rest up first." She settled back into the pillows.

Neville beamed happily, skipping to the bed and grabbing the covers, wrapping her up. "Thanks Andrea."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever. We finally find a place that could be nice and you both decide to be all doomy about it. Sheesh."

It did not take long for Andrea to fall asleep. Even if she had not felt safe, which Neville was sure she did feel weirdly safe in this Muggle place of perfection, her illness clung to her body and had to be exhausting. He watched her chest rise and fall in solid breaths. They had been so frightfully wheezing for months now, and just seeing her lungs fill up with air without stuttering made him lightheaded.

Neville slid free of his seat by the bed, eyeing the door. He had no weapons, but it was highly unlikely anyone in this place would attack him, and even if they did, Michonne had taught him enough self-defence to get by. His curiosity was heightened now. He had to know what this strange Muggle town was like.

"Be careful Neville." Michonne watched him slip out the door. He tipped his head to her before vanishing into the corridor beyond. While they were in what the Governor had called the infirmary, it was likely the house they were in had several purposes, it was the only way they could have been keeping so many people in the small community. He could not hear that many voices murmuring from beyond the several doors off to the side, so not much must have been going on. Cracking open the entrance, Neville peered out onto the main street, still finding himself thrown by the idea he was not carrying his weapons. His whole body was in overdrive, watching for Walkers, trained to hear the slightest sound, catch a movement out of place, and it was driving him mad already to be surrounded by a town full of such freedom.

These people were so—so—stupid. It was like they were playing house, pretending that what was outside could not hurt them—or—so it seemed.

What was it that he could not see underneath the smiles that greeted him.

Even the children that laughed, kicking balls across the street, riding cycles, seemed to hide something eerily sinister. He could not shake it. Was it his magic telling him he was in danger?

Neville tipped on his heels, striking up a path toward the barred entrance of the main town street. Huge iron gates had been erected. They were impressive, and he was sure the guns the military looking folk standing aloft the giant muggle trucks were also supposed too impressive but he really had nothing to judge them on. Neville studied them thoughtfully, wondering just were the Governor had come across such arsenal. Perhaps they had been lying around nearby, that was possible right? So much had been discarded by the muggle military.

His brow furrowed. Now that he thought about it, what had happened to that man they had seen survive the helicopter crash? He had been muggle military hadn't he? Neville swung around and almost ran face first into a man's chest. How in the hell had he not heard someone sneaking up on him?

He lunged back a few paces, taking a fighting stance.

The man started chuckling, waggling the contraption that replaced his hand in the air.

"Tut, tut, kiddo, not paying attention."

"I…I was…"

Merle, that was his name. _Merle_. The playful shine in his sharp blue eyes hid the natural instincts of a hunter, that much Neville was sure. He had been unable to sense the man because the man was far more skilled than he was. Mud was caked to the man's clothes and skin, like he simply forgot to wash, but oddly enough, he didn't stink, at least, not in the sense of a foul stench. Neville frowned, slowly relaxing his defensive posture. He had smelt this scent before—pine needles crushed under his boots, mixed with moist air lazily clinging to his ankles—the Forbidden Forest.

Earth-magic.

This man smelt like earth-magic, the deepest sort of magic a wizard or witch could tap into. How was that even possible? Neville squeezed his wand hand, feeling it ache enough that he bit his lips.

"Shouldn't be hanging around here, kiddo." The gravelled voice levelled at him.

Neville tipped his head up, releasing his lips from his teeth, feeling the skin pull away with a sharp pain. "I'm just admiring your incredible walls, they're very impressive."

"You think so, do you?"

"Yep." Neville flashed his best boyish grin. "Must make everyone feel really safe."

Merle snorted. "No one's safe."

"No." Neville shrugged. "No we're not."

"Anyway, you shouldn't be here, come on." A firm hand was placed on his shoulder and he could not shake it off. It felt as though it was lodged there by some kind of heavy weight. Merle lead him back through the street and he noticed that the towns people seemed to step away from them deliberately, as though Merle was terrifying to them, a stain on their perfect, imaginary lives.

He noticed the crowd begin to split, making way for the Governor, like he was some kind of powerful, revered figure. Following along behind him once more was the little mousey man, who only raised his head when the Governor finally stopped in front him and Merle.

Neville noticed the slight tensing of the heavy set warrior beside him and felt his own body react. If a man tuned with earth-magic so naturally was wary of the Governor, then _Lady_ help them all.

"Your medical-kit." The Governor handed his potions-kit to him and Neville raised an eyebrow as he opened it, snorting through the contents within.

"You guys went through it I see?"

"I'm a…ah…scientist." The skittish man lingering beside the Governor murmured. "I was…curious…"

"I see." Neville shrugged the bag over his shoulder. "No harm done. Did you find anything interesting, Mr…?"

"Milton Mamet. Milton."

"Mr. Milton then." Neville inclined his head.

"I am not entirely sure how you could be making anything good out of the contents of your medical kit."

Neville grinned. "Oh, I assure you, my form of chemistry is an ancient art passed down through generations. I am not as skilled as I want to be, but current events have caused me to have a bit of a crash course."

Milton nodded. "Perhaps you could show me someday."

Neville inclined his head. "Perhaps I could. How is the man from the helicopter, Governor?"

"Doing fine." The Governor waved absently. "No need to worry."

"It is just, the man was from a military establishment, and surely he was not alone."

"Do not worry, we shall see to his return."

With the amount of military equipment, he had seen in just the short stroll through the town, Neville was positive that they would indeed see to the return to the helicopter pilot.

"Sure you will." Neville murmured. "Sure..."

"So, yeh really a lord?" Merle eyed him.

"Indeed, I am. My Grandmother was head of our family, but she must have died during the…outbreak?" Neville shrugged. "That therefore makes me Lord Longbottom, not that it does much these days, does it?" He glanced toward the Governor. "Titles are just for throwing around and lording over people."

Merle laughed. Neville never expected his hair to be suddenly ruffled. "He sees right through yeh, Gov."

The Governor's lips pressed together ever so subtly. "Indeed."

Neville ducked his head away, pretending to be suddenly shy.

"Well, Merle, perhaps you should take Neville back to his guardians. They are sure to be getting worried about him, and we don't want him missing curfew."

"Sure thing, boss."

Neville knew he should have found the hand that settled on his shoulder disturbing, but it wasn't. Merle's heavy, scarred hand reminded him of a thick oak tree, its roots going deep into the earth, searching for water. The man gently tugged him away from the shadowy, choking presence of the Governor and he was grateful to be away from the overwhelming sensation of being watched like he was some sort of bug to be squished.

"Honestly kid," Merle murmured to him softly, "yeh need to learn when to shut yeh mouth."

Neville glanced up at the hardened man. "Why do you put up with… _him_ …"

"Saved my guts." Merle shrugged.

"Your guts have to be telling you he is a shitty overlord."

"I ain't got nowhere else to be."

Neville snorted as Merle lead him back to the door of the house that worked as the makeshift infirmary. "You're a druid," Neville turned, looking down at Merle, over his nose, putting every effort, every forceful tone into his voice that he could muster, wanting to appear every bit of the young lord he knew he was. "You belong to the earth. You belong to no one. You are the first of the magicals. No one, and I mean no one, tells you what to do."

"What the fuck, kid?"

Neville smirked. "I haven't properly introduced myself." He touched his chest. "I am Lord Neville Longbottom of the Ancient House of Longbottom, Wizard."

He expected Merle to shrug him off, or to tell him to go shove the light-where did-not shine—he did not expect the warrior-hunter to just stand there, eyebrow raised, and actually take him dead serious.

"Okay."

"You…believe me?" Neville blinked.

"Kid, I have seen far too many things in this world not to believe you." Merle shrugged. He shoved the door open. "You're a wizard. Whoopie. I once saw a Skinwalker. Was trippy. Also saw a werewolf, that was hellish, almost got bit too. Forests are full of weird and wacky things. You respect that shit."

Neville followed Merle into the house. "All right then. Well. Don't tell your landlord."

"Your secret to keep, but he'll figure it out eventually."

"Hopefully by then, we'll be out of here."

Merle looked back toward him, his gaze suddenly serious. "No one leaves Woodbury, lad, no one."


	12. Chapter 12

Hello Dear Readers,

I apologise for vanishing on you all again – moving house is…exhausting…I do not recommend doing it on a recently operated on knee, especially if you're moving upstairs. Gah. Nope. Nooooo. Nope.  
Also, that first episode of the new Walking Dead Season 7 was utterly horrifying. Hadn't freaked out like that since The Red Wedding in Game of Thrones (and I knew that was coming!)  
I'm really excited to see where the season goes, but I hate seeing Rick and Daryl so beaten down, it's awful—but it will be so great when they grasp victory again. Good storytelling, seeing the heroes suffer so their triumph is all the sweeter. *squeeee*

Okay. Enough fan-girling…

Hope you all enjoy this update!

Keep well everyone.

Haruka-Shir

15/11/2016

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Chapter 12

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Charlie walked silently beside his brother, keeping pace with Minerva, whom he was still struggling to call by her first name, despite her continued insistence to do so. The corridors of Hogwarts felt disgustingly empty without students milling about, and despite the company of the families that had managed to make their way to the great castle, it simply was not enough to feel as though they had saved a considerable number from the disaster that confronted him every time he went outside.

Muggles had bombed their own cities, desolated so much, and the Wizarding World had suffered from the decay of the mundane just as much. The two worlds were impeccably linked. Bill would have likened it to a network of runes. The Wizarding world could not survive without the energy the mundane world supplied them.

Charlie rubbed his head. They would survive this, they would—both worlds—but he was unsure what shape they would survive it in. Perhaps Severus was right, that they could not live as separate worlds now and this was the beginning of a new age. Severus was still in the infirmary. Lucius had managed a few good shots at their potions professor, and for once, the man was actually not complaining about sleeping off his wounds, not when Dudley and Piers gave him pouty faces. Those two muggle boy's thought the utmost world of him, for some reason. In the past year, Piers had practically made him a new father—much to the hilarious amusement of all in Hogwarts. Oddly enough, the stoic potions professor had not bothered to dissuade the muggle boy, letting him trail around behind him in silence.

Petunia was the most confused. Apparently Piers had never known how to be silent before, but he was like a perfect little gentleman around the potions professor.

Charlie smiled. Well. If anyone could teach silence, it was Severus Snape.

"Minerva, what is going on?" Bill's cragged voice broke through his mulling. Charlie looked up, realizing they had come to a pause. As tired as he was from the journey beyond Hogwarts, it seemed the amassing problems just kept coming, and rest was still beyond his grasp. How he wished his father was still alive—and Percy—Merlin—Percy's voice of reason would have been so welcome right now.

They had travelled deep into the foundations of Hogwarts, deeper than he had ever been before. The magic was rich, flowing around him like a thick ocean, causing his skin to crawl. To be honest, he didn't much like the feeling, it was to choking and strong, drowning him in its power.

It felt a lot like being around one Harry Potter.

"I brought you both down here for a second opinion." Minerva looked old as the words left her lips. Charlie stepped forward, offering her a supportive hand against her arm.

"What is it?"

"You are both, perhaps, the most experienced young men we currently have in this area. I should have brought in you in on it earlier but…truly…the more who knew about it…the easier it would have been for others to glean the knowledge from you."

He noticed his brother's brow furrowing. Mind invasion? So, they had come to a point in their history where mind magic's were being freely used—how distasteful. Just because civilization was collapsing did not mean their code of ethics had to collapse along with it.

"Do you know where we are?" Minerva offered.

Bill looked up and Charlie followed his example. The high ceiling was coated in a single, huge slab of stone, and that stone was covered in glittering runes, appearing like a scattering of stars. He was transported back to the orchard nearby the Borrow, the night he had spent with Bill when they had been kids, lying on the law, staring up at the sky. Never would he have envisioned this future for them.

"This is one of the four ward stones of Hogwarts," Bill murmured in awe.

"Yes." Minerva nodded.

"The North Stone." Bill continued, walking around in a circle. "It's huge."

Charlie blinked a few times. He had never seen a ward stone so enormous before. Bill had once shown him the ward stones at the Burrow. When they had been boys they had both loved clambering all over them, having adventures just beyond the wards, then scampering back into the protection they gave. Their father had once taken them into the cellar and shown them the single ward stone for the house itself, the very foundation of their family heritage and they had both added their blood to the long line of Weasleys when they had both turned eleven . That stone likely still sat there, buried under the rubble was had become the Burrow after their father's death.

"I don't understand, Minerva…" Bill withdrew his hand from the surface of the stone arching over them. "What's going on?"

She looked about the answer, but footsteps staled her. A lantern light lit a figure approaching down the corridor. Minerva held up a hand as Bill drew his wand in defence. She shook her head. Into the faint light of the shining runes, Blaise Zabini joined them. The Slytherin moved like a practiced dancer, smooth and sleek, matching the sweeping shift of his green hemmed cloak. Of what he knew of the teenager came only from hearsay and gossip—that his mother was incredibly stunning, and was a Black Widow, a sly killer who was never found guilty of her husband's deaths, or any other deaths around her either.  
But the Zabini family, as far as he knew, had stayed well out of the war—despite their Dark magical alignment.

Watching the teenager now, he could see why.

Blaise was threatening. From his glinting eyes, his high cheek bones, to the manner in which he lifted his chin. Never would he have lowered himself to join a Dark Lord, Charlie could not imagine the teenager bowing to anyone and someday, if he ever became a man, it was unlikely he would even bow to Dumbledore. This young man should have had the chance to become Minister and it was a shame that was no longer possible. Charlie knew that once he would have envied him but now it just seemed so petty. He was greeted with a genuine smile, as warm as any a Gryffindor would have sent his way. It threw him off.

Slytherin's just did not smile like that. Did they?

"Ah, Blaise, you made it." Minerva held out her hand, accepting the book the young Slytherin offered her. "Thank you."  
"William, Charlie." Blaise inclined his head.

"Blaise has been helping me with the Hogwarts ward stones since before the outbreak."

"Before?" Charlie frowned.

"I never left the school." Blaise set his lantern down. "It was too dangerous to return home. Dark Lord, Death Eaters, my mother's newest boyfriend and all _that_."

"So that's why there are more Slyherins here." Bill tugged on his earring. "You all stayed at the school over the summer holidays…"

"Contrary to beliefs, William, many of us do not agree with the ideals of our parents. Hogwarts is the only haven we have known." Blaise' gaze turned up, to the immense ward-stone climbing above. "And now, I fear even her walls will not be enough to hold back the new world we are faced with."

"You can't be serious." Bill choked, he snatched the book Minerva held, flipping it open. "Hogwart's ward-stones are even more powerful than Gringorts, it is impossible for them to fail, they are built into the mountain side. For them to fail, the very magic of the mountain itself has to fail."

Charlie rubbed at his exhausted eyes. "They're failing?"

Blaise nodded wearily. "I've been keeping track of the energy levels for at least year and a half now. Minerva started noticing a change in the wards just before the outbreak, we don't know if its related, it is unlikely though."

"Can the Walkers get through?"

Blaise strung a hand through his hair. "Cedric and his crew have been keeping a pretty good eye on the perimeter and thus far, nothing has gotten past them. I let them know when a weak spot appears."

Charlie felt his mouth dry. "But you're telling me, they can get through."

"Yes." Blaise's shoulders sagged. "They can, but it is…unlikely they would without someone noticing."

"Why didn't you tell us, Minerva." Charlie turned to the professor.

She bowed her head. "As I said, I truly have not known who to trust."

"It's dangerous at the moment, you cannot blame her." Blaise interjected. He placed a comforting hand on the elderly woman's arm. "The tensions of the war still haven't died away, and truthfully, we're still not sure who it is that we're actually fighting here. I can assure you, protecting my mind all the time is exhausting."

Charlie massaged his temples. It was painful just thinking about it. "Okay, I can understand why you when to the Slytherins first."

Minerva looked up, frowning. He wondered if she had expected him to be angry, like his mother. Really—did the Weasley family have that bad a reputation?

"They're well known for their occlumency skills, and I'll admit, it's not something my family has ever actually practiced."

"We each have our particular skills." Blaise shrugged.

Charlie watched his brother pace as he read the book, the tension in the air grew only tighter, as though a noose was pulling around his neck. The young Slytherin standing beside him was wringing his hands, he doubted the Italian boy would have wanted it pointed out, but it showed just how anxious the situation was making him if a Slyhterin was breaking his mask.

Bill suddenly slapped the book shut and turned toward Minerva.

"Headmaster Dumbledore…what's he done?"

"Whatever do you mean?"  
"Why isn't he here, Minerva, with us, discussing this…he has to have done something for you and Severus not to be trusting him…and Charlie is right, you went to the Slytherin's first, because they could protect their minds. You would only do that because someone was invading minds. Charlie and I, we're pretty close to Dumbledore because we're Light Families, you're a Grey, while I'm sure we would have been your first choice, you simply couldn't have risked it."

Minerva's whole body slumped. Blaise reached for her. Charlie transfigured a chair, sliding it under her and she thanked them both softly. He hated how old and worn she looked, when she had always been such a strong and powerful figure in his life. It made his heart race in the terror that he might lose her, just like his father, his brothers and little Ginny, and Harry. He squished those thoughts to one side, ignoring them.

Minerva breathed in a shuttering breath, letting it out slowly, gaining strength.

"Dumbledore…he…he is a good man, I need you to understand that he only wants to do good, but he…he is misguided, so misguided."

Bill's grip on the book was only growing. Charlie worried his brother was going to tear through it any moment now.

"To try and extend his life, he bound himself to Hogwart's magical system."

"Wait…" Charlie slackened, feeling his body going numb. "How…how could he do that?"

Minerva bit her lips. "Have you ever heard…have you ever heard of…"

"Have you ever heard of Horcuexes?" Blaise finished for her.

Bill dropped the book. It thudded heavily on the floor. His brother was shaking. "Please," his voice was so soft, it was difficult to tell, even after all the years he had lived with his brother, to know if it was compressed rage or horror that caused such a reaction, "don't tell me he was foolish enough to…oh…Merlin…he's killed us all."

Minerva bowed her head.

"Bill, what's going on, what's a Horcrux?" Charlie urged.

"It is a way to extend your life, perhaps even a manner of gaining immortality, I am not really sure, I haven't done too much research into it but the Ancient Egyptian sorcerers were quite…" Bill looked as though he was working around an oath, pearls of sweat crowing his brow. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Don't, William," Blaise offered him an out. "Even I'm aware your work would have required some extremely heavy oaths to get into some very exclusive places. Just…leave it there."

Bill relaxed slightly. "All I know is that it is a manner in which a wizard or witch can split a part of their soul and contain it into an object. I have heard of some portraits being horcruxes in the past, even some haunted Muggle houses, though usually a wizard or witch will use something small, like a ring or a locket, something that can be passed down through generations." Bill rubbed at his eyes. "To use a whole castle, the Headmaster was obviously looking for an immense source of magical energy. The Founders knew what they were doing when they built this school."

Blaise strung a hand through his hair, "The issue is, Charlie, the way Horcruxes are created. You have to kill someone to do it. You have to murder someone, and you have to mean it."

"Wait, what!?" Charlie spluttered. "Are you…seriously…suggesting the Headmaster…murdered…murdered someone! That's just ridiculous. Dumbledore would never willingly murder someone."

Blaise shrugged. "Killing is a lot simpler for a wizard than we are taught. So many simple spells can be used to kill. Murder, though, is what is _difficult_. The intent to kill is what is difficult for a Light Wizard. It is truly what makes your magic unique. I almost envy you, Charlie." Blaise sighed.

Charlie frowned. "Intent to kill."

"Murder is a desire to kill someone. Accidental death by spells don't count." Minerva shook her head. "Dumbledore had to desire this death."

"But we're talking about Dumbledore, the greatest wizard since Merlin." Charlie held out his hands.

"That's taking it a bit far." Blaise snorted.

"You get my point though," Charlie insisted.

Blaise scoffed, "Sure, doesn't change anything."

"Enough, both of you." Minerva massaged her head. "We don't know what the motivations of the Headmaster were. What is important now is the safety of all those within Hogwarts. Bill? Your thoughts?"

"Hogwarts is rejecting the Headmaster, and in doing so, the wards are failing." Bill slumped down under the ward stone. "Your calculations, Blaise, of two years?"

Blaise nodded.

"Sorry, they're incorrect, we perhaps have a few months, going by how bad the decay here is."

"Oh…" The young man pouted.

"You did good though," Bill smiled weakly. "I'd be happy to take on an apprentice; you show promise in this area."

"That is, if we're alive in a few months." Charlie grumbled.

"Charles." Minerva clapped him over the head.

"Well, it's true."

"Severus is working on it." Minerva sighed.

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. I figured I didn't almost get eaten by the Gringotts dragon for nothing."

"Severus never does anything without a reason." Blaise rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, if we're done here, gents, lady, I've got to meet up with Cedric and Theo to go kill some Walkers."

"I'll come with you," Charlie offered.

"You sure," Blaise picked up his lantern. "You look as though you're dead on your feet."

Charlie chuckled. "Not quite yet. When I am, you're very welcome to put a stake through my head."

The young Italian smirked. "The honor will be mine, Gryffindor."

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The vast stone floor Dudley walked across was cold, so cold that he could feel the chill radiating through the soles of his boots and into the thick layers of his wizarding robes. The more he dwelt on it, the more he thought it was strange that, though it was spring, and summer was creeping up on them, the halls of Hogwarts just seemed to be getting colder and not warmer. The rain was still bucketing down, making Walker killing difficult, according to Theo and Cedric.

With a skip he hopped up the enormous steps toward the Great Hall, hearing the low hum of voices through the slightly open grand oak doors. Gratefully, warmth was flowing out through the crack, with light streaming out, like a guiding beacon to his little mundane heart.

He had felt like a fake, at first, wearing wizard robes, and wandering the halls of Hogwarts, sleeping in the Slytherin dorm room with Blaise and Theo—in a bed that had apparently belonged to someone called Draco Malfoy, who he recalled Harry mentioning a few times.

Blaise though it was hilarious for some reason, called it justice on so many levels that a muggle would sleep in a pureblood's bed.

The longer he remained in the magical world, the less he felt as though he was invading it. The more time he brewed potions, the more time he immersed himself in the library, the lighter the wizard cloak he wore grew until he barely noticed it.

Now he had a new weight to worry about. The Knife hidden under his wizard robe. He could not let it out of his sight, and most importantly, he could not let Dumbledore see it, that would ruin all their plans.

Passing through the gap in the doors, Dudley sighed in relief as a wash of heat flooded over him from the immense fire burning in the heath, captured in the centre of the great hall. The fact that it was still spring, and the heath had not magically vanished just seemed to prove that the cold chill he felt was not something he alone was subject to. Everyone in the hall was still wrapped up in winter gear.

He caught sight of his mother sitting high on the teachers table, next to Professor Flitwick, they seemed deep in conversation so he did not bother waving and instead jogged quickly over to join Blaise, Theo and Pansy at the Slytherin table.

While he could not say he particularly liked Pansy Parkinson, as she reminded him of himself before he had begun to realize just what monsters his parents were, he tolerated her for the sake of Blaise and Theo.

And Pansy had—well—she had not entirely been unscathed by the terrors that lay outside the walls of Hogwarts. She wore the magical fire-burns that marred her face without a glamor, but he knew from the way her hands constantly traced the glossy flesh, that she worried about the sight of them. They had all attempted to assure her they thought nothing of them but it did very little he was sure.

They were a reminder of the night at the Quiddich World Cup, where the Wizarding World had changed forever and Pansy had barely survived.

Theo and Blaise had been luckier, he supposed, they had never left Hogwarts in the first place, deeming their family life far too dangerous to return to. Theo's old-man was apparently a Death Eater and had threatened on numerous occasions to beat him to death, which Dudley had thought was rather contradictory to whatever the Death Eater's cause was since Theo seemed to be the only heir of their pureblood family.

Blaise very rarely spoke about his mother, but according to Theo, she was beautiful—and a killer. That was where that conversation was left at.

Dudley beamed in greeting as he slid into the long wooden seat beside Blaise, who's head was buried in a book.

"How was the Library, Dudley?" Theo was serving a second plate, that he shoved under Blaise's book, causing him to stir and glance down. "Finish your readings yet?"

Dudley shook his head. "While Professor Snape gave me a pass to get into the restricted section, I had to stop and go back again to the basic's on Arithmancy and Runes." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Math might have been my best subject but I'd only just started on basic physics."

"If you need help," Blaise raised an eyebrow, "you need only ask. You're a muggle, Dudley, the fact is, you're not…born…to make these things work for you."

Dudley sighed. "I know, but I need to understand."

"We get it, Dudley. Which is why we want to help," Pansy offered softly. "Helping you sort of helps us."

"Thanks guys." He carefully picked out his food, grateful to be back at Hogwarts, where the elves were masterful cooks. He scratched his cheek. He had forgotten to pay Dobby a visit since he returned—he really needed to do that. Since the departure of the Goblins from the magical world, there had been a constant worry that the elves too, would retreat into the so called 'land of the fae' – but Dudley was positive they would not do so, the elves loved their wizard masters far too much, had had almost grown into a symbiotic relationship with them, at least, as far as he could tell it was something like that.

"Ohhhh," he turned slightly as a voice called out, "did you save us some?"

Skipping down the Great Hall Hannah Abbot twirled like a swan, her luscious brown locks bouncing around her neck. She was followed by a much less energetic Susan Bones.

Theo waved, holding up a plate for Hannah. "Always, sweetie, always."

Hannah swung herself onto the bench beside Theo, taking the plate from him. "Thanks. Gosh. Isn't it cold this evening…Pansy, you really need to dress warmer, aren't you scared you'll freeze."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'm already made of ice."

"Yes, yes, the Ice Queen of Slytherin." Hannah snorted. "We know."

Dudley shuffled over, letting Susan into the seat beside him. He had been told that her Aunt, the Minister of Defence, had been one of the first Magical's to suffer the terror of turning and that it had happened in their own home. He wasn't sure if it had been Susan who had taken out her own Aunt in the end, or someone else, but the horrors of her experience had worn her down. Her long black hair she kept in a ponytail, and Blaise constantly told her to cut it short—Walkers grabbed hair, he said.

"Where is Piers?" she inquired.

"With Professor Snape, in the Infirmary." Dudley nibbled his lips. He would have been there too, but there was not much he could do just sitting around in the Infirmary and Professor Snape would have hated him being lazy.

"Ah." Susan nodded. "Think he'll stay the night?"

"Who, Piers or Professor Snape?"

"Both?"

"Likely both." Dudley shrugged. "Piers is pretty clingy. Professor Snape took some pretty bad hits."

"I can't believe you fought—" Hannah started, only to be cut off by Theo's sudden kiss. Dudley almost coughed out his pumpkin juice. He still was not used to Theo's overly flamboyant nature.

Pulling away Theo gripped the startled Hufflepuff girl's hand firmly. "How about we not discuss this in hearing range of the Headmaster. I'll pick you girls up later tonight, with Cedric? Yeah?"

Hannah clapped him firmly over the head. "Snog me properly next time, idiot."

Susan laughed, leaning over Dudley, stealing a pie from Blaise's plate. The Italian clicked his tongue in disproval as he peered over his latest book. "I saw that. Steal from Dudley."

"Dudley is running the risk of actually looking like his cousin. You, on the other hand, look as if you grew three feet yesterday."

"It's called puberty. Men get sexy, women get snarky."

"You take that back!"

"Nope." Blaise laughed, ducking behind Dudley.

Dudley pouted. "Don't use me as a shield, she'll hex me and I can't defend myself."

"He's a defenceless muggle, Susan, you are so cruel!" Blaise pointed dramatically with his book.

"Gah," Susan flung up her arms, "Slytherins."

Dudley smiled, nibbling at his pastry. The laughter of his friends echoing around him and the warmth of the fire tickling the back of his neck was all he could currently ask for. It was perfect. How could he have ever wanted anything more than this. How could he have ever been so selfish. He wished Harry was here. He wished his cousin had known this sort of kindness inside of Hogwarts—perhaps he had—perhaps his friends Ron and Hermione had shown that to him as well. Hogwarts was a wonderful place and he was just so glad that Harry had given him the chance to see it.

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 _Piers' older brother looked at the three of them, his eyebrow raised. "You're playing me."_

 _Dudley felt the tension he had been holding in drain out through his limbs like water. The training cop wore a hilarious smile as he sat across from them in the small café._

" _We're not." Piers insisted. "Harry's a wizard. It's why his uncle and aunt hit him and kept him in that cupboard under the stairs. They hate him. Like our step-dad hates me."_

" _Dad doesn't hate you, Piers."_

" _Well he could've fooled me."_

 _Jake sighed, removing his cap. He scrubbed a hand over his shortly copped hair and his gaze turned to Harry, sitting in a chair beside him. Dudley cringed a little. Harry was so fragile and tiny in the huge hand-me-downs he wore, and the way he curled himself into a ball with his shoulders just made him look all that mouseyer—the real Harry was nothing like this, but a part of him felt that perhaps some of Harry still felt tiny, and small, and hated being looked at pitifully._

" _Harry, are they making fun of you?"_

" _No, Mr. Jake. It's true. I'm a wizard. We're breaking a lot of laws telling you, but we didn't have a choice, you're the only person we thought we could trust."_

 _Jake shook his head. "I just have this feeling you three are stringing me along."_

" _We're not!" Harry gasped out. "We're really not! I need your help. I have to get to Gringotts Bank and the only way to do that is to get into London. Dudley and I can't do that alone, not without a guardian. It will look weird for two boy's to be going alone. So we need…we need you."_

 _Jake's hand settled on Harry's head. "Okay. Harry. Okay. I don't really believe you, yet, but okay. I'll take you all into London."_

" _You will!" Harry face lit up, and nothing was more wonderful that Harry's smile. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!"_

" _Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Jake shrugged. "Right now, kiddos, let's get fish'n'chips and milkshakes."_

 _They spent lunch discussing the ins-and-outs of Harry's wizarding life, and Dudley was sure that the more the elaborated on it, the more Jake believed that they were not coming up with some hilarious joke on him. It was just too much for three young boys to come up with._

 _By the time they made it back to his place it was late afternoon, and Jake thumped into living room, his big boots pounding the floor. He always felt safe with Jake in the house, and he knew Harry did too, the way he hung in Jake's shadow with Piers. It was so annoying that Jake only returned home for a few weeks every couple of months. He really, really wished Jake lived on the street and could strike the fear of angry-cop into his parents more often._

" _Afternoon, Mrs. Dursley, Mr. Dursley."_

" _Jake, how lovely to see you."_

 _Dudley groaned as his mother fretted about, fetching a tin of briskets Harry had baked the day before. Jake shook his head at the offering, relenting eventually, like everyone did when his mother insisted._

 _He sat down on the sofa, allowing Piers and Harry to clamber up beside him and Dudley sat beside his father, because it was expected of him, and because he knew he had to make sure his old-man did not freak out about Harry sitting on the sofa, getting his dirty wizardness all over the furniture._

" _Did you have a good time, Dudley?"_

" _Yeah, it was great. We had fish'n'chips!"_

" _Oh, how lovely." His mother gushed. "Thank you Jake. You did not have to."_

" _Nonsense. They're wonderful boys." Jake included Harry in his wide grin._

 _Dudley winced, noticing his father's sudden glare in the direction of his cousin. Harry quickly bowed his head and started to shift off the couch._

" _Actually," Jake stalled Harry with a hand. "If you don't mind, Pentuia, I was just wondering. I'm not here for long, and Piers really enjoys being with his friends, so I thought it would be wonderful to take the boy's on a trip for a few days."_

" _Oh, I am sure Dudley would love that."_

" _Harry's my friend to." Piers almost spat the words out._

 _Dudley felt his father clench and he tried so hard not to close his eyes and prepare for the storm of raging words that would follow._

 _Thankfully Jake started laughing. "Of course he is, Piers, we wouldn't leave anyone behind, that's not how we Polkiss' do things."_

" _I just…I just don't think that…ah…that we could afford for Harry to go along as well."_

 _Dudley scowled at his mother. The money excuse. She always pulled that one off. They had warned Jake about it._

 _He smiled in his good natured manner. "That's fine, Petunia. I'll manage. Keeping my little brother and his friends happy is what I live for in life. That and trying to find a girl-friend."_

" _Ewwww." Dudley and Piers pulled faced. Harry giggled._

 _Vermon chuckled. "Yes, yes, it was about your age that I met Petunia. You're going to make a fine husband someday, Jake."_

" _Thank you so much, sir, coming from you, that is high praise." Jake stood, giving Harry's head a pat and he held out his other hand for a fist bump from Dudley. "So, boy's I'll be back to pick you up on Monday? Sounds awesome?"_

" _Yeah!" Dudley whopped. Harry simply nodded quietly._

" _Sweet!" Piers bounced around the living room. "Thanks Mr and Mrs. D."_

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 _That night he heard Harry's soft muffled cries as he left his bedroom for the toilet and his stomach dropped as he watched from the shadowed corners his father's huge bulk leave through the bedroom door and latch the lock on Harry's door. An anger that festered deep within him boiled up, making his fists clench so tight he cut his own skin with nails. The toilet forgotten he crept down into the kitchen, dragged a chair to the bench and climbed on, finding the first-aid kit. He startled when the light switched on and stared dumbly at his mother in her nightdress._

" _Dudley, what are you doing—"_

" _Shut up," he hissed through tears. "Just shut up."_

 _Climbing down he pushed the chair back into its place, perfectly, so that Harry could not be accused in the morning of having moved it. He shoved past his mother, but at the entrance into the hall, he paused, and looked back._

" _Harry isn't the witch in this house." He growled out. "You are."_

 _His mother just stood there, dumbly, like he did not even exist. Like the words he had said meant nothing to her. He wiped away his tears, creeping back up the stairs. Carefully he unlocked Harry's door and slipped in. Harry had pulled himself up against the nearest wall, his bright eyes wide, dangerous and so vicious, but he knew the bottled up fury and anger was not directed at him. If it was directed at anyone, Dudley was sure Harry hated himself._

 _Dudley reached for the nearest lamp, switching it on, causing his cousin to flinch back._

" _Sorry."_

 _The room smelt of blood, and faintly of urine, which he knew Harry loathed, but there were times when he wasn't let out for days and he just had to pee somewhere. This was Harry's prison. It even looked like a prison. It wasn't even a painted room, just wooden walls and wooden floors._

 _Harry slumped down suddenly, collapsing like a rag-doll. Dudley clambered for him._

" _Harry…what did he do?"_

" _Nothing too bad, I think, I think it's just…I'm exhausted from everything."_

 _Nothing too bad. Dudley snorted to himself as he pealed back Harry's bloodied shirt, revealing the belt lashes. Harry winced._

" _Lie on the bed, I'll see if I can wash them."_

" _It's fine. D."_

" _No. It's not, Harry. It will never be fine. They're sick. There is something seriously wrong in this neighbourhood if no one can see what's going on here and if my parents can do this to a kid. Jake is a cop and even he doesn't report it. Its like he forgets about it the moment he leaves."_

" _It's a forget-me-charm, I think. At least, that's what it sounds like." Harry slumped onto the bed. "Why it's here, I don't know."_

 _Carefully Dudley cleaned each wound. He was twelve. This was not what he should have been doing. He forced his hands to stop trembling._

" _Right, so that's why you're forgotten about, but why are my parents…monsters…"_

" _I'm not skilled enough to figure that one out yet, Dudley."_

 _He stayed vigil beside his cousin all night, because there was no way he was going to allow whatever cruel, disgusting magic that tainted his house play with his parents and his cousin with him nearby. He left only when sunlight just peaked through the window. It would not help the situation if his father found him curled up by his cousins bed. He stashed the first-aid kit under his bed, deciding he would ask Jake to buy him another one, maybe two, so he could keep one in Harry's room._

 _He flopped onto his bed and sobbed into his pillow._

" _Please," he murmured, "Aunt Lily, I don't…I don't know what to do. My parents are monsters. No one notices it. No one cares. This house is cursed. This house…this house is cursed."_

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 _As promised Jake came by Monday morning. Dudley had never been so happy to pile into a car and leave his house with Harry tucked up beside him. Piers knew something had happened by the eyes he was sending them from the front seat, but he kept quiet._

 _Jake took them to a lovely little cottage in the country, the air was sweet, the fields green and Harry's smile was genuine. All that day they explored, wandering the local town, trying sweets and icecream, taking goofy photos. Harry could not run or play as much as Piers and he could, and Jake ended up carrying him on his back more often, but at least he heard Harry laugh._

 _By the time they made it back to the cottage Harry was asleep in Jake's arms and Dudley felt the greatest sense of achievement. He had given his cousin something fun for the holidays to remember in the coming year, if things got bad again with the wizards._

 _The next day they took the train into London and Harry enthralled them with stories of the Hogwarts Express. Dudley could almost understand why his mother had come to hate his Aunt Lily—almost—sure, Harry's stories of is life in the Magical world where fantastical but he could hear in his cousin's voice the warble that betrayed the difficulty too. He wondered if his Aunt Lily had kept back the negatives of the Magical world from his mother, and only told of the beauty._

 _Harry was not such a fool, he let them know how dangerous it was, he wanted them prepared._

 _His cousin led them on a merry dance through the streets of London until they found themselves on a backstreet, seemingly ordinary and out of the way. They must have looked rather odd just standing around looking stupidly up at a building that Harry said was the entrance into some magical place._

" _So…" Piers looked around. "Where is it?"_

 _Harry laughed. "You're a Muggle, you sort of can't see it. Just a sec." Harry tugged out three weird looking pendants. He handed them out. "I made these yesterdays. They've got a bit of my blood on them, so they should act the same as you holding my hand, or so Hermione says. She did the same thing for her parents. She got really sick of holding their hands all the time."_

 _Dudley took his, studying the pendant. It had been made out of bedsheets cut up and braided together, with a knot at the end. He gulped at the obvious red stain in the white sheet. Quickly he tucked it over his head and under his jacket. The moment he did, something shifted under his feet._

" _Whoa. That wasn't there before, was it?" Piers spluttered._

 _Dudley looked up. Right in front of him was an entrance into a pub that had not been there before. It looked rickety, run-down, but oddly warmly inviting from the way light poured out from its tiny, dirty windows. Harry was grinning at them, mostly at Jake, who looked like he had swallowed a fly._

" _Okay. I believe you now Harry."_

" _The Leaky Cauldron." Piers blew a rasp. "Could you get any less conspicuous."_

" _Come on!" Harry grabbed Jake's hand. "You're going to love it!"_

" _Wait…hold on." Jake took off his cap. "Remember, Harry, project-keep-your-identity-unknown. From here on out, call me…er…guess I'm not old enough to be your Dad."_

" _Uncle?" Piers offered._

 _Harry screwed up his face._

" _Uncles can be nice, Harry." Dudley murmured. "Jake could be a really nice Uncle."_

" _You're very welcome to call me Uncle, Harry."_

" _Does Harry need a secret code name?" Piers whooped._

" _What about David?" Dudley offered._

" _Good, Harry, you're now David. Don't take the hat off. Shame we can't do anything about the glasses. Oh well. Stick close boys."_

" _We're going on an adventure!" Piers whooped._

 _Jake pushed on the door into the pub and Dudley felt as though the world just shifted under him, everything from that moment onward would never, ever be the same. His parents would throw him onto the curve and spit on him if they ever found out he had been in such a place and it was only the entrance. The ceiling was lit by spinning wagon wheels, alight with non-dripping candles, and every corner that should have been dank and dark had a lantern hovering about, not attached to the wall. Tables and chairs were full of every assortment of face he could imagine, dressed in colourful robes, glinting with gems, feathers, knick-knacks and potion bottles, some even carried daggers on belts. He caught sight of a few swords here and there._

 _He had stepped right into one of his computer games._

" _Whoa." Jake choked._

 _Harry was beaming at them, there was no hiding how proud, how excited his cousin was to be showing off his world to them and Dudley grinned in return. No, he would never be bitter like his mother, he would be happy for his cousin, and happy for himself to know he could be a part of Harry's world in any small way possible. Bitterness was rotten anyway; he had seen what it had done to his parents._

" _Come on!" Harry dragged Jake toward the counter. "If you think this is awesome, you're going to love Diagon Alley. Tom! Tom!"_

 _Behind the bar a burly man in an apron stood, wiping a few plates by hand, while the others were simply doing themselves, washcloths dancing in the air happily as the plates swung by. Dudley could take his eyes off the fantastical feat. Tom paused, setting down the washcloth he held._

" _Why, hello there, young man."_

 _Harry smirked._

" _It's me, Tom."_

 _Twirling his long mishmash Tom chuckled. "Oh, I know. Who are these fine gentlemen with you?"_

" _This is Jake, he's training to be a Muggle Auror, and this is his brother, Priers, and Dudley, my cousin."_

" _Your cousin heh?"_

 _Dudley shuffled uneasily on his feet as blue eyes burrowed into him, searching him. He felt as though the man's magic was assessing every inch of him, judging him for being so round and plump while Harry was the twig he was. Suddenly, the pressure left, and he could breathe again. Tom's happy face had returned._

" _Welcome to the Wizarding World, gentlemen."_

" _It's great!" Priers burst out._

" _You've only just stepped into a pub." Dudley laughed._

" _The pub is great." Priers grinned._

" _Then you will love the rest of it as well." Tom waved his wand over Harry. "Should help yeh," he nodded to Jake, "notice-me-not charm. Make him less noticeable by folk passing yeh by for a few hours. He's a real icon in our world I'm afraid, he got mobbed last time he was here. Poor lad."_

" _Thank you." Jake inclined his head._

" _Don't tell anyone Tom." Harry bounced on his heels._

 _The barman chuckled, patting the cap Harry wore. "Lad, you go out there and have a fun time. Do you remember the sequence to get into the alley?"_

 _Harry beamed. "I won't ever forget it."_

" _Good lad."_

 _Harry snatched up Jakes' hand once more and yanked. Dudley followed quickly, waving to the beaming barman as they vanished through a backdoor, into a small outdoors area. They faced a brick wall that seemed to be a dead-end, and yet, Harry withdrew his wand, tapping it on several of the rocks._

 _The next moment, Dudley felt his breath in his lungs sucked out as before his eyes, the bricks began to fold in on themselves, peeling away to swiftly reveal a chaotic, mangled, medieval streetway. Men and women, with a few children scattered in between, wearing robes that danced along the cobbled stone road, and pointed hats or hoods to shade from the glare of the sunlight, wandered between shops._

" _It's a good thing we're here so early, you should see this place before school starts, packed street it is. Come on, we're heading to the bank." Harry pointed down the street, to the furthest building in the distance rising far higher than all others around it. It was enormous, and terrifying in its grandeur and if it looked so magnificent from afar, he was at a loss to think of what it would be like when they entered it._

 _Harry was laughing at their expressions, and the sound was more magical than any of the magic surrounding them._

" _Come on! Come on!"_

" _Slow down, David," Jake called out, "I don't want to lose sight of you."_

" _Yes, Uncle!" Harry ignored Jake and happily skipped down the alley._

 _Dudley sighed. "Sorry, when he realizes he's free from my parents he sort of…ah…goes a bit…"_

 _Priers threw his arms up. "You should have seen the time we snuck out and took him to the zoo! Never seen a kid so happy before in my life, and I'm a kid."_

 _Dudley slapped his face. "Don't remind me. I feel more like an adult than my parents."_

 _Piers laughed suddenly. "Yeah, like when we saved up all our birthday money and got him that stupid toy wolf he wanted from the zoo. We're such a mum and dad…geez."_

 _Jake's firm hand settled on his shoulder and Dudley looked up into the kind eyes that enveloped him in a warmth of understanding. "You are doing the best you can, Dudley. Come on, we better catch up with him before he attracts to much attention."_

 _Just as Dudley had thought, Gringott's Bank was far more impressive when they approached it. The steps up to its front doors felt as though he was climbing a mountain into a deep, dark cave that would swallow him at any moment. His feet began to shake noticing that on the overarching ceiling hanging stalactites dimly glowed with a gentle, throbbing ebb in the darkness. He breathed out, stepping closer to Jake as they entered through the wide open doors into a marble landscape. The hall was huge, far bigger than the building itself suggested and he had to remember—magic—things could be bigger on the inside._

 _Behind beautifully carved benches, the oddest of creatures sat perched, silently working. A chill spread down his spine. Despite the pinstripe suits they wore, that his father would have envied, something about the cruelty in their glinting eyes, the ripple of muscles and the suspiciously placed weapons told him these creatures—whatever they were—were never to be taken lightly._

 _Harry's entire demeanour had changed the moment he had stepped into the bank. While he still radiated the happiness of his freedom, his shoulder's had suddenly been thrust back and his walk had become neat. Dudley was sure that if Harry was not wearing the huge hand-me-down's he would have looked quite regal._

" _Let me do the talking." Harry looked up at Jake. "Goblins take respect and honor very seriously. Hermione made me read up on them all year. I'll probably butcher this, but I am sure they'll appreciate the effort."_

 _The only other time Dudley had felt such a sense of nervousness had been when his father had taken him to work on a father-and-son work visit. His father had been so proud, boasting about how brilliant his son was, what a great business man he would someday grow to be. Dudley had wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground._

 _He had the very same feeling as Harry approached one of the tall desks, where a Goblin was perched high above the magical's that loitered down below. They were saying something—the Goblin's were subbing their noses down at the wizards and witches. Dudley glanced around quickly. It was all one giant joke, he was sure of it—a joke on the wizard and witches that came every day into the bank, but they just could not see it._

 _Harry bowed to the Goblin far above him. "Excuse me, sir, but I would like to see the Keeper of my Vaults."_

 _The Goblin looked up from the stack of paperwork, staring down at Harry over the tiny wire rimmed spectacles he wore. The green skinned creature rubbed his chin with a claw._

" _Do you have an appointment?"_

 _Harry bowed again. "I sent word via my owl."_

" _Name?"_

" _Harry Potter, sir."_

 _The Goblin sounded as though he snorted. Dudley noticed Jake squeezing Piers' shoulder really hard so he would not laugh at the near fart-like noise. The Goblin reached out, tugging on a little bell beside his booth, ringing it in a sequence of chimes. Throughout the hall, more chimes followed, as though they carried a coded message. With a nod, the Goblin slapped a sign over the front of his station that Dudley had to presume read something along the lines of 'use next-door booth' before he hopped down rather elegantly from his high chair._

" _Follow me, Heir Potter."_

 _Piers mouthed up to Jake, "Heir?"_

" _Sir," Harry paused the Goblin, "may my companions join me?"_

 _Yellow tinted eyes glanced over Dudley in dismissal, as if he was no more than a piece of furniture._

" _Mundanes, I presume?" The Goblin asked._

" _Yes." Harry nodded._

" _Welcome to the Magical World." The Goblin leered, revealing rows of fanged teeth. "I suggest not touching anything in this bank. Fae magic."_

 _Dudley looked up at Jake as he heard the elder suck in a sharp breath. He did not understand why he suddenly looked more alarmed than he had been, why the mention of 'fae' put both the P_ _olkiss_ _' brother at ill-ease._

 _Jake snatched up Piers hand, hissing. "Don't touch."_

" _Yeah. Okay." Piers grumbled. "I know."_

 _Dudley shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, not about to tempt fate._

 _The Goblin led them through twisting corridors, so many corridors. If not for having a guide they would have become entangled in the endless labyrinth. Eventually they stopped by a seemingly ordinary wooden door and their guide tapped on it. He stepped aside as the door eased open on its own accord._

" _Accountant Griphook will see you, Heir Potter."_

" _Thank you, sir. May your pockets never receive holes."_

 _The Goblin chuckled at Harry's bow. "Let moths never nibble your priceless tapestries, little lord." With that, their guide turned away, vanishing back down the corridor._

 _Harry sucked in a deep breath, nodding to himself. "Right. Step two." He gave Jake a thumbs up._

" _You can do this, Harry," Jake assured._

 _The door was not at all imposing. Just a simple wooden door—Dudley thought it rather like a Hobbit hole door, from that movie he had watched with Piers that his parents had forbidden him from ever, ever watching because it had a Wizard in it._

 _It was a good thing Piers was around._

 _This was much cooler than a movie though. He was inside the movie._

 _Harry gently eased the door open by the brass handle, it neither creaked nor groaned, but from somewhere, a rattling noise startled Dudley enough to make him jump. It took a moment, but it clicked, the noise was coins, a dozen or so coins being tossed into a bag by a crooked nosed goblin sitting behind a desk scattered with piles of papers._

 _A quill raced across a scroll by its own accord as the goblin in a black suit and a bowler hat counted another dozen or so coins and tossed them into the small bag._

 _It was only when he looked up, peering over half-moon spectacles that his yellow eyes became apparent, and the fierce glint reminded Dudley that he was not facing a circus creature—but a magical being, and as Harry had warned him, a warrior race that would, and could, kill him at a moment's notice._

 _Possibly with the giant axe that hung above the desk, shimmering with a magical glow in the light of the wagon wheel chandelier hanging from the low ceiling._

" _Ah," Harry squeaked, "Accountant Griphook…hello…again…"_

" _Heir Potter." Griphook wearily stood from his seat, walking around his desk. "I was quite surprised to receive your owl. I did not expect you to begin correspondence with me until…quite some time…"_

 _Harry lowered himself from the waist in the most formal sort of bow Dudley had seen him use yet. When had his cousin learnt all of these sorts of bowing techniques. Had his friend Hermione drilled them into him during their school? Dudley cringed at the thought. Hermione just sounded like a tyrant thinking about her._

" _I deeply apologize, Accountant Griphook. When I came to the esteemed Gringotts for the first time, with the Gatekeeper Hagrid of Hogwarts, I was unaware of my place within the Wizarding World, and entirely unaware of your status as the Keeper of my Vaults. I wish, deeply, to make amends of my foolishness."_

 _Griphook shook his head. "Heir Potter," the Goblin reached toward a pile of papers upon his desk. "When you showed up here with the Gatekeeper, appearing as you did, not knowing the significance of even your Key—which you did not have, nor did you keep with yourself—I must profess that I took it upon myself to do some…background…checks."_

 _Dudley heard Jake hum with agreement._

" _You are not at fault, Heir Potter."_

 _Harry's limbs relaxed with relief at the elderly Goblin's words before his back straightened again. He breathed out. "I know, sir, there is not much I can do until I find a new magical guardian, but I at least want to make it more difficult for my current one to gain access to my parent's belongings."_

 _Griphook nodded slowly._

 _Harry removed his backpack and pulled out a scroll. He offered it to the goblin._

" _Hermione Granger and Bill Weasley helped me write this up."_

 _Griphook raised an eyebrow as he took the crimpled scroll. "Bill Weasley…"_

 _Harry anxiously scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I…I know he works here. I had, ah, hoped…he could help with the more…legal…stuff. Hermione is…only my age. She might be brilliant, but, we're only kids, you know?"_

 _The Goblin chuckled. "Still, I will keep an ear and eye out for this Lady Granger. Young witches of such brilliance are usually spoiled by the end of Hogwarts training. William Weasley was a rare find. A true diamond." Griphook sighed heavily._

" _I am sure his family appreciates the praise sir."_

 _The goblin scoffed. "Hardly." He unrolled the scroll, the scowl of his grey eyebrows folding over as he read the contents in deep contemplation. Finally, he looked up._

" _This is very unorthodox, Heir Potter."_

" _I know." Harry bowed his head. "But to be honest, I don't know what is going to happen to me and I don't trust Headmaster Dumbledore with my assets. I would prefer to write up a will now, and make sure that the Potter line go to someone I trust than for it to end up in the hands of someone I don't trust."_

" _Harry…" Jake hesitated. "You're almost twelve years old, you don't…need a will."_

" _I do." Harry shuffled on his feet. "I almost died, Jake. Voldemort almost got to me, and if I learnt anything this year, it was that he will do it again and Headmaster Dumbledore will not do anything to protect me. Indeed, he will do everything in his power to make sure I confront him. I am a son of a powerful House, a House I do not want falling into the hands of someone who uses little kids. I would rather spit in the face of all of Magical Britain and give everything I own to a Muggle than let anyone else get a hold of my parents stuff. Dudley, please…understand…Hermione and I discussed this for a long time, we even talked to Ron about it. It would have been easier for Ron to inherit my House. We even went so far as to talk about a marriage with Ginny."_

 _Dudley spluttered at that. "Seriously, but you're like…twelve!"_

 _Harry shrugged. "Age is hardly an issue in political alliances between Magical Houses. Ginny was quite willing to lend a hand, however, after much deliberation, we decided we simply could not allow it. Dumbledore is very close to the Weasely Family. Through Molly and Arthur Weasely he could gain access to my House if I die. Ron wouldn't have any influence, he's the youngest son and Ginny is only a…"_

" _Girl." Piers grumbled. "Sheesh, Harry, your world is super backwards."_

" _Yeah." Harry scrubbed the back of his head. "We sorta are."_

" _We considered Hermione too, but…that wouldn't work either, so we fell back on something magic recognises whether someone is of the magical world or of the mundane world."_

 _Dudley slowly nodded. "Family."_

" _Blood." Harry added. "You and Aunt Petunia are Blood. You aren't of the Potter bloodline, sure, but you're of the Evans, and Mum was Lady Potter. If I am stuck at your ruddy house because of blood magic, then Dumbledore has to accept that I can play his own game back at him. I can use blood magic to bind you to Potter House. I'll adopt you. I'll make you my heir."_

" _Sweet." Piers clapped Dudley over the back. "Wait…what?"_

 _Harry raised an eyebrow, a rather strange, almost manic smirk appearing on his lips._

" _It'll be such a great prank, don't you think?"_

 _Dudley squeaked, "An heir. Of a Wizard House."_

" _Aunt Petunia will be your proxy until you come of age though, so…don't tell her until you think you need to. Don't want her raiding all my fortune. I'll get you books to read. Don't worry. You'll do fine. Despite the monster Uncle Vermin is, he is very good at business, and so are you."_

 _Dudley could not deny that. He had inherited a couple of things from his father—the man's girth, much to his horror, and his mathematical skills, which his father used in finances. He was so grateful he had not inherited his father's temper._

" _Will…will it be enough…sir Goblin?" Dudley whispered._

 _The goblin looked to him, pale yellow eyes studying him with a sudden, keen interest now that he supposed he was going to be somewhat important to its business._

 _The goblin spread the parchment out. "Oh, it will be enough. If it blocks Dumbledore from the Potter vaults, I will do everything in my power to make it so."_

 _Harry's tense shoulders relaxed as Griphook passed over a quill. "Sign your name, Heir Potter. Dudley Dersley, was it?"_

" _Ah, yes…sir…"_

" _You may want to read the contents of this magically binding contract before you sign it. Also, you, young Human, are you their guardian?"_

" _I suppose you could say that." Jake frowned._

" _I'll duplicate a copy for your records."_

" _I would appreciate it, thank you, sir."_

 _Stepping toward the desk as Harry finished off his swirly signature in a fancy flourish, Dudley took the quill and began to read._

 _Dudley tapped the quill on the table. "So this is basically saying that in the events of your death, or in your absence for some inconceivable reason—"_

 _Harry shrugged. "Anything could happen. Voldemort could catch me."_

" _Okay. Right." Dudley shrugged. "If anything like that happens…I'm going to take your place as heir of the Potter Estates? That's correct."_

" _Pretty much." Harry nodded._

 _Dudley looked to Griphook. "Is this even possible, with me being a Muggle?"_

" _Mundane, Dudley." Harry corrected._

" _Whatever, is it possible, sir Goblin?"_

" _As I said, it is unorthodox, but there is nothing against it. We Goblins are of the Fae World, not of the Magical World. We interact with both the Magical and the Mundane. Our King fell in love with a Mundane Woman, he cares not if you are magical or mundane. To us," Griphook looked away to the piles of papers on his desk, "you're all just paperwork."_

 _Harry laughed suddenly. Griphook smirked._

 _Dudley turned to Jake. "What do you think, Jake?"_

" _I confess this is all over my head, but this is a well written contract. Whoever this Bill Weasley is, he is good with his words. I find no fault in it. It is straight forward, Dudley. You should be fine."_

 _Dudley nodded. "Okay." He scrawled his name out under Harry's, noticing his signature was not as neat as his cousins, but he had not used a quill as often he supposed._

 _As soon as he lifted the quill tip off the parchment, both signatures glowed bright and the parchment vanished. Dudley gasped, feeling a sudden warmth in the centre of his chest. He backed up a pace._

" _What's that?"_

" _Congratulations, you are now a member of the Potter Estate. I suggest heading down to your vault, Heir Potter, getting some gold out, and making him a ring." Griphook waved a hand about. "Add some blood to it, just to make sure no magical's can refute your claim. You should find someone in Knockturn Alley willing to do the bloodmagic. Wait. I'll write out the address."_

 _Harry nodded. "Thanks. Do you think…when do you think Dumbledore will figure it out?"_

" _I'll bury the paperwork." Griphook shuffled back to his seat. "That's never hard to do around here."_

 _Piers stifled his laughter when Jake glared at him._

 _Jake folded up his copy of the contract. "This…Dumbledore…you don't seem too happy with him, Harry?"_

" _He's a good man," Harry shrugged, "don't get me wrong. He just…his good intentions blind him. He thinks he knows everything, and can control people. I don't like being controlled. I also don't like my money being stolen."_

" _The Goblins do not like your money being stolen either," Griphook grumbled._

" _I rather like being rich." Harry beamed._

" _Soooo," Piers twirled about on his heels, "Just…ah…how rich…are you?"_

 _Harry paused for only a moment, "Filthy."_

" _Could you buy me a new PlayStation?"_

" _Easily."_

" _And a car?"_

" _You can't drive Piers." Harry laughed._

" _Well, when I can drive, could you buy me one?"_

" _Easily."_

" _Sweet."_

" _Piers," Jake cautioned._

 _Dudley smiled at his friend who just shrugged and Harry was smiling, but the pain lingered behind that mask. How long, Dudley wondered, would it take for the pain to go away. Would it ever go away?_

" _I'll protect the Potter House, Harry." Dudley assured. "Even if I have to learn everything about this crazy world of yours and sit my butt on some ugly old seat with hairy wizards that don't want me, I'll do it."_

" _Thanks, Dudley. Who knows," Harry poked him playfully, "you might have a kid who's magical who can take up my House someday."_

" _Mum and Dad would disown me." Dudley shook his head. "And don't talk like you're already dead. This is stupid, you're going to be fine." He wrapped his far larger hand around his cousins, squeezing it firmly. Harry sheepishly ducked his gaze away. Dudley noticed the gulp Harry gave, holding in his sobs. His tiny chest, underneath the oversized jumper he wore, shuttered weakly._

" _I was born to die…"_

" _No," Dudley wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Harry, no. You'll live the best life ever."_

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 _Perhaps he should have known that something was going to give that year, after Harry left for school and he had settled into his usual routine with Piers. He watched his parents like hawks, and it exhausted him. He knew they were not—normal—that something was wrong with them, in the way they acted toward Harry, in the mannerisms they used even toward him and Piers._

 _Sometimes he caught the glassy look in his mother's eyes as she did the dishes and a shiver went down his spine, and the ring that Harry had made for him would burn against his skin._

 _Piers often complained that the necklace Harry had given him when they had adventured into Diagon Alley, that Piers had simply refused to take off, often felt hot as well whenever he entered the house._

 _Why?_

 _Just why?"_

 _The more books he consumed that Harry sent him over the school year did nothing but baffle him. Bloodwards and runes—he and Piers went searching for such things around the house, but found nothing. Whatever was happening to his house had to be built into the very foundations of the building and he had no way of finding that out on his own._

 _It was half way through the year that the devastating news came._

 _Jake was dead._

 _Jake was not supposed to die._

 _Dudley stood in front of Piers house, watching his mother with a sickening sensation in his stomach. Piers was beside him. He was just not sure what to say._

 _Piers suddenly pushed something into his hands. He glanced down at it. An envelope._

" _Please…" Piers choked. "Send it to Harry. I don't…I don't…want him to find out through your parents…when he gets home…I want to tell him. I want him to know…that Jake…Jake died trying to free him. That…that…it was a Wizard who killed him."_

 _Dudley nodded._

 _Harry was going to be devastated. If Jake had never come with them that day, if he had never been given that pendant with Harry blood, he would never have walked away from Four Private Drive and remembered all the terrible things that happened to Harry._

 _Jake was a cop—Jake had needed to do something to help Harry._

 _Jake had tried._

 _Jake had died._

" _I'm sorry Piers."_

" _Don't be, Dudley." Piers looked away. "We knew what we were getting into. Jake did too. We're not kids anymore. We need to be prepared."_

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Prepared. Dudley squeezed shut his burning eyes as they threatened tears. It was only thanks to Harry that he had been prepared for anything—only—he had been prepared for attacking wizards, both the good, and the bad.

He had never expected the world he now lived in.

And he had never expected to be part of a conspiracy to overthrow a Headmaster. He risked a glance at the long high-table, where the elderly man sat in his great throne. No longer did Dudley think he looked like a hilarious version of Merlin. He was a terrifying nightmare of colours, all blurred together, into flames just like the phoenix that protected him.

"When did the world go so wrong?" Dudley whispered.

Blaise' hand settled on his jittering knee and he looked toward his friend. Blaise's smile was usually sharp and spiteful, but sometimes he showed the Blaise under his mask.

"We might be able to set it right again, Dudley, but we'll do what we can to live."

He had to trust in those words.

They just had to live.


	13. Chapter 13

_24/04/17 – Hey everyone! Welcome to a new update.  
Sorry I haven't updated in ages, been planning/writing a new novel, and working on publishing another one (you can learn al about it on my facebook page 'Chronicles of the Children' I lark on about it all there), which always takes up time…and…work…trying to build up lots of work. Getting there. Could do with more work, I'd love that. _

_Anyway, enough about me, you're here for the story!_

 _Onward, my dearest friends and readers, every onward._

 _Keep well._

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 **Chapter 13**

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Sirius studied the three in-mates with ill-ease. They looked a lot healthier than he would have thought for a bunch of men who had been trapped indoors for near-on a year. Rick was pacing back and forth, making everyone watch his movements. The man looked even more like a trapped wolf than Remus ever did, even on a full moon night.

"He's such a drama queen." Sirius heard Remus murmur, and he had to agree with his old friend.

Suddenly, Rick spun on his heels, facing the three in-mates, a glint in his eyes. "Right, the way I see it, you have three options. One, you remain with us but take a…what was it…magical oath?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, Rick had been doing some reading of Hermione's books, interesting—but—not quite running on all pistons, Muggle's could not take magical oaths, although, perhaps Rick was gunning for that stupidity. The in-mates didn't know that. Sirius grinned.

"Yes, yes," Sirius stepped forward, "you may take a magical oath that binds you to our group, you cannot harm us in anyway, otherwise you'll suffer…terrible things." He flashed a boyish grin.

Axel looked rather green at that thought. "We'll die…"

"Most likely." Sirius nodded.

"Second option," Rick held up a hand, "you can leave here with some supplies and go your own way. We won't bother you, you won't bother us. Simple. Third option, we kill you right now."

"You'd…you'd do that."

"Do not test me." Rick narrowed his eyes.

The little spindly fellow, Andrew, stood up slowly. "I'm leaving then."

Sirius was hardly surprised. The man had the air of a distrusting rat about him, but more than that, he appeared as though he simply wanted to get as far away from the prison as he possibly could. He loathed the place—fair enough point.

"Right," Rick nodded, "we'll give you some supplies, and a weapon, and you may leave."

Andrew inclined his head.

Attention was turned back to Axel and Big Tiny.

Axel scrubbed a hair through his red mullet, nibbling his lips. "I ain't got no-one on the outside, and if I did, they'd be all dead, right?"

"Most likely." Rick shrugged.

"I'll take an oath, then. I promise I won't hurt no-one."

Big Tiny was slowly nodding in agreement. "I will too."

"Alrighty then," Sirius clapped his hands together. "Welcome to the family, boys! Come along with me, we'll get the oath cleared up and then, you can help me dig some holes."

"Holes?" Big Tiny frowned.

"Yup, holes, well, you do want to bury your friends, right? We also have a friend to bury too."

"Oh," Big Tiny smiled, "yeah, we should honor them. Tomas did keep us alive after all."

Sirius swept around, waving to Rick to handle the strangler who wanted to die outside in the unknown. The little rat would not last longer than a week, tops, even with a weapon.

He rubbed his chin. Right. Now to make up a good sounding oath of hogwash. Bother, he did wish he had some Goblin parchment lying around, then he could really do some damage to some muggles.

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Harry hesitated to say that the drive was peaceful.

Nothing ever felt truly peaceful. He wondered if he had ever felt a moment of true peace in his life—perhaps that first night he had arrived at Hogwarts, sitting alone in his bed, surrounded by warm blankets? He had still been rather naive back then, and while his hypervigilance from growing up with the Dursley's had been frustrating, he had been able to have moments of pure peace in the safety of his dorm room.

Now though, he just felt like a wind-up toy, tightened to the point of breaking, and everything around him was a threat.

Hermione lay pressed against his shoulder, her gaze distant as she watched the scenery pass by. Her world had shifted again. Ron had been her stability, her rock, something she had used to anchor herself too. He could hardly blame her for needing to escape from the sudden change. It was as though they were constantly walking on sand, the desert altering around them whenever they awoke as the dunes rolled with the wind. It was now, more so than ever, that he was so grateful for the stability that he found in his godfather, and in Daryl, and in Luna.  
But just like Ron had been stolen from Hermione—could they be taken from him too, in the blink of an eye?

Harry sighed, rubbing at his nose. His skin was oily. Merlin, that was just what he needed—acne, right now, when Lavender Brown was not around to tell him the newest _Witch Weekly_ remedy to rid himself of it. The drive had to last around two hours, they stopped a few times, checking a couple houses, finding a few bits and pieces that Glenn and Daryl looked rather happy about. Things that got dumped into the trailer, items like old saws and axes from old-man sheds. Daryl even dumped a tool box into the trailer, sharing a look with Glenn that betrayed shared grief.

"For Dale." Daryl shrugged.

"He'd like it." Glenn just seemed to shrug, his smile fading away as he jumped back into the driver's seat. Harry turned back around, watching as Daryl swung himself back onto the seat beside him, slamming the land-rover door shut as Glenn reeved the engine and they chugged off down the road once more.

"Who was Dale?" he inquired.

In the rear-view vision mirror Glenn's eyes sought his and he knew, just from the pained look the young man gave him, whoever Dale had been, Glenn had truly respected him. The silence ate into his stomach. Each moment it lasted making him reconsider asking, until Daryl broke the air.

"When we were a group, back in Atlanta, Dale was with us. He was with us for a while, up till the Greene Farm. We lost him there. Stupid too. Shouldn't have lost him." Daryl shook his head, staring out the window. "Shouldn't have lost little Sophia either."

Maggie's voice had bitterness to it. "And we shouldn'a lost Otis to that scum-bag."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Right. Bad blood."

Daryl shrugged. "Aye, his name was Shane. He was a dick."

"What happened to him."

"Rick happened." Glenn offered. "Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

Harry nodded. He could sense the tension. Whoever this Shane had been, he had obviously caused a considerable amount of damage to the group, and perhaps he had even been the reason why they had been stumbling around in the wilderness for so long. Maybe he had Shane to thank for bringing them all together. His attention turned back to Hermione, still curled in a ball, her knees tucked under her chin.

"So um, Maggie, any ideas about what to get for the babies?" He tried to drum up conversation, for Hermione's sake.

"Ohhh," Maggie clapped her hands, "well, we know Lori's having a girl thanks tah Remus' nose, right? So, we are getting adorable little ducks."

"Ducks." Daryl spluttered in disgust. "Yeh not getting her ducks! No."

"Ducks are so cute. Little yellow cute-."

"No."

"Cute little grey elephants then."

"That's been worse." Daryl's face pulled back in revolt. "She's gonna grow into an arse-kicker, not some…some…"

Glenn laughed. "Whatever you say, Daryl, is going to be offensive."

"Ah, shit!" Daryl smacked the back of Glenn's seat. "Whole damned worlds ended, who's gonna care."

"You call me China-man again and I'll kick your balls." Glenn grinned.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "At least I _have_ balls. Bloody women. All…demanding...and…and…stuff."

"I heard that." Maggie turned in her seat. "Now I am really going to dress arse-kicker in cute ducks!"

"Don yeh dare." Daryl pouted.

Hermione let out a little laugh. Harry beamed, his job done. He settled back in his seat, allowing for Maggie and Daryl to continue their argument and for Hermione to smile at the ever-increasing horror Daryl was subjected to. He was flat out drawing a line on anything My Little Pony. Harry was darn sure the man would burn whatever cute little pink shirts with ponies on them Maggie found—either that—or ditch them at Walkers.

By the time they reached the small town marked out on their map, Hermione had joined in on terrorizing Daryl with not just what they were going to be dressing the new baby up in, but with baby names. As they ate their packed lunches Harry and Glenn sat on the back of the trailer, laughing at the antics of the girls. It was not really their place to name Lori and Rick's coming baby, but it was adorable to watch Daryl's face twist and contort at the thought of some of the names thrown at him.

This almost felt normal, it almost felt like they were a little family, out on a picnic, if it were not for the occasional Walker in the distance, reminding him of the reality he was seeped in.

"Right." Daryl swung his crossbow over his back. "Gonna check out the rest of the town for building supplies. Glenn, yeh look at the department store, let me know what yeh find. Girls, chemist is all yehs. Harry, stay by the cars."

Harry watched as Daryl headed off down the road. Glenn had already vanished into the large department store and the girls had taken off to the chemist the moment they had been freed by Daryl's words

Harry propped his head back against the window of the land-rover, "And I'm stuck watching the car. Just fabulous." He swung a foot back and forth, giving a weak laugh. "The Boy-Who-Lived, defender of the cars. Beware of my awesomeness."

He twirled his wand, looking up at the sun, just peaking between the trees. "Ah well," he shrugged, "could be worse."

If he had learnt anything in astrology—because telling the time by the sun, and learning all about sun-dials had been immensely fascinating part of soothsaying-then it was around an hour by the time Hermione and Maggie made it back, carrying bags of stuff with them. He wondered if any of it was useful, and that just annoyed him. He despised not knowing the contents.

"Hey, Hermione! I'm going to find Glenn!" He shouted, ignoring her protests, as he jogged off toward the far larger store across the street. By the smashed in windows, it looked like it had already long ago been looted, but the doors themselves where still intact. Harry inspected the bin lined up by a window, and Glenn's jacket lying over the ledge, protecting against the broken glass. He hoisted himself up, climbing through the hole. Casting a lumos he stuck his wand between his teeth and carefully clambered down a stack of wooden crates. As with most stores, there was a foul stink in the uncirculated air, left over from stock having gone rotten. Even this long after the end of civilization, that stench had seeped into wood and furniture to linger for some time. Much of what had caused the smell had been dealt with by scavenging animals and insects, but Humans sure had a way of packaging their stuff up tight.

Harry hopped off a crate. No wonder Glenn was taking a while, much of what could have been useful appeared to have been already taken—but what remained was a skeleton of a store—things folks did not think would be needed, but truly, in the end, proved rather useful if you had to think hard in a situation.

"I suppose we could rip up all the benches, use the iron and wood for transfiguring the fences." Harry mused. "Don't know if ripping up a house would be better though…more sturdy materials."

With a skip to his walk he moved between the rows, surprised to find that small plants had begun to grow in patches of dirt blown in by the wind. How long would it take for nature to reclaim the world? He knelt beside a tiny wild flower, blooming bright in a ray of sunlight from a high skylight in the ceiling. Harry brushed a small leaf, smiling at the soft texture.

"Humanity falls and nature rises to catch us."

What would the world around him look like in a few more years, given the time for nature to reclaim the land humans had taken from it. He was sure Luna would have found something far more poetic to say, but his eyes landed on the wondrous sight of nappies, that would soon become so very, very useful.

"Ah," he grinned, clapping his hands. "Found you!"

A whole row of disposable nappies. Boxes and boxes of them. He looked down at the tiny flower and chuckled.

"Guess nappies wasn't on anyone's survival list, heh? Well, they sure are on mine. Going to make our lives so much easier. Hope you don't mind, little flower, but I am not caring about nature at the moment sooo, disposable nappies it is!"

With a sweep of his wand, he shrunk the boxes and dumped them into his bag, tugging the string and swinging it over his shoulder he gave a satisfied sigh. If he wanted a job done, best to do it himself. Looking up, Harry gasped, catching sight of the Walker behind the shelves he had just cleared. Its eyes glaring at him, mouth open wide, and if he was one for dramatizing a situation—which he was—he would have said it was leering.

"Shit. Shit," Harry yelped.

The shelves crushed back as the Walker rammed into them. Harry ran, laughing as bits and pieces rained down upon him. He turned about, staring at the Walker, struggling to right itself in the upturned shelves. He shook his head.

"Stupid thing." With a flick of his wand he sent a blasting curst at it, splattering its head. The body went limp. Harry puffed back his fringe. "Great! Look at the mess you made, you great lump of a corpse!" He kicked at the fallen shelves.

"Harry…"

Glenn's voice was muffled, but it was Glenn, coming from somewhere in the store.

"I'm here Glenn. Near the…" Harry looked around, noticing the nearest disguisable sign. "Near the loo!"

"The what?"

"The toilet."

There was a rather long pause before he heard Glenn's voice again, this time closer.

"Oh, you mean the restroom."

Harry pulled a face. "You don't…rest in the toilet. Whatever." He pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting. Glenn's head appeared around a corner of shelves, and he waved. The man was sweating, despite only wearing his tank top and Harry wiped at his own brow, feeling the pearls of water. He had not noticed how parched his lips were feeling.

Glenn had almost reached him when he felt it, the brush of something against his shoulder. Glenn suddenly started running, his knife was out, and everything about his usual, cheerful demeanour had shifted. Harry ducked and rolled into a pile of boxes, wanting to be as far away from the situation as possible.

Glenn moved like lightning, slamming the stray Walker back against the nearest wall. Swift thrusts of Glenn's knife and the bloated bag of waggling arms and legs sagged down into a limp heap. Glenn dropped it, shaking off the blood.

"Harry?" he croaked. "Harry!"

"I'm here!" Harry piped. He poked his head out of the boxes, grinning.

Glenn sighed in relief. "I thought Daryl told you to stay by the cars."

"I…er…" Harry tumbled out of the boxes. "Got bored. Maggie and Hermione were going on and on about…ah…girl stuff."

He was smacked gently on the back of his head. "You might need to learn all about that. Fundamental knowledge. I highly doubt Daryl or Sirius are ever…ever going to be giving you…those…talks."

Harry squeaked. "Never again! Sirius made me want to wipe my memories forever!"

"Figured. Are we going to need to sit down at some point?"

"Nooooo."

"Sounds like it to me." Glenn shook his head. "Glenn to the rescue, as usual."

"Oh, Merlin." Harry groaned. "No, no…I was…ah…just…listen…I came in because I had this thought about…well…we might need a pram, or a baby carrier, you know, practical things."

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "Clothes _are_ practical."

"Baby carrier is going to be a must. Who knows if we're going to be needing to walk at some point." Harry held up a hand. "We're so going to need one with two babies. Three, if you and Maggie—."

Glenn massaged his temples. "Fine. We'll go look for a baby carrier—"

"And a pram."

"And a pram."

Harry made a victory fist, pumping it silently in the air.

Glenn shook his head. "I just got manipulated didn't I?"

"Yep."

"Daryl is going to shot me."

"Yep." Harry skipped along.

"Lord, please make my death swift."

It took a while, with much griping from Glenn, but they did manage to hunt down just what he was looking for and Harry could not have been happier. The brands they found were top-range brands. He could not understand why no one had taken the precious treasures yet, but perhaps babies were not the top propriety in everyone's lives after the end of civilization.

"Happy now? Glenn watched him skip around their pile of stuff.

"Ecstatic." Harry threw one last item into the trolley.

Shaking his head as he chuckled, Glenn grabbed Harry by the head, shoving him gently forward. "Come on, Bambi, before Daryl gets here and chews us both out."

They both smelt like Walker guts, enough that Harry contemplated throwing himself into the nearby creek. The day was hot after all, and gooey guts got sticky and itchy.

Dragging their precious treasures back through the shop Harry hummed a happy tune. This had turned out fantastic. Sam was going to be overjoyed with the baby-stuff, it would surely cheer her right up after Skye's near-death.

"I can't wait for the babies." Harry burst out.

"Anyone would think you're the father." Glenn laughed.

"I just…I just love kids, and it means, well…it means hope, right, hope that we can live in this horrible world."

He did not quite catch what it was that Glenn grumbled, but he was sure it was not positive. It did not matter, he was positive about it, and that was all that mattered to him. No matter what happened, he was going to make sure Sam and Lori had the best of everything for the babies.

Reaching the store front, he caught sight of Daryl and felt an instant glare from the man that latched onto his magic like a string and near dragged him forward.

Luna was right—Daryl really was a druid, just hanging around in the middle of America.

"Bambi! I told you to stay by the car."

"I got bored."

"You and boredom." Daryl snorted. "What'cha got?"

Glenn shoved past, rolling the trolley toward the trailer to unload. "Well, Harry really wanted to go all out for the girls. Kids knows his stuff too. A fancy pram, a fancy carrier, and there was a load of disposable nappies stored back there. Not something I would have thought of. So Harry shrunk them all and stuffed them into his bag."

Daryl nodded in approval. "Nice."

Harry beamed. "I would baby-sit a lot of the kids along our street, sort of a weird contradiction, considering I was supposed to be…well…the bad-boy of the neighbourhood…but I was good at it. I was practically a nanny." He waved a hand around.

"Trust me," Daryl drawled out, "the way Lori is acting, you're going to be needed."

Glenn sighed. "She's not that bad, Daryl."

"The guilt is eating her up…" Daryl shrugged. "Just saying."

Harry looked between Glenn and Daryl. "What are you talking about?"

Glenn shot a glare at Daryl, who simply shrugged. "It's ain't like it's a secret of anything." His gaze settled on Harry, who felt as though he was being told a deeply important secret, despite Daryl's insistence that it wasn't one. "The bub's not Ricks."

"What?" Harry blinked a few times. "Do you know who?"

"Shanes'." Glenn hissed the name.

"Oh…" Harry frowned. "Shanes'…" Why did the name feel as though he was saying a dirty word.

"He really didn't take Rick coming back well." Glenn sighed.

"That's a mild understatement." Daryl scoffed. "Though, he was rather unhinged beforehand, just took a bit to bring it out. Ain't everyone cut out for this world…" The hunter looked away, his gaze sweeping across the deserted small town, the few walkers in the distance, stuck on fences. The girls were finally exiting another clothes store someway down the street, both their aura's pleasant and pleased. Harry relaxed. Hermione seemed in much better spirits. She had needed the outing.

He scratched at his hair, dried flakes of Walker guts catching on his glasses.  
"There is a stream nearby, I'm going to take a dip." He motioned with a flick of his wand.

Glenn agreed wholeheartedly.

"Fine," Daryl propped himself back on the land-rover. "We'll find you after we finished packing the cars. Just be careful."

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"Just be careful!" Andrea's voice echoed down the corridor of the infirmary. Neville laughed as he skipped out the front door and down the front steps into the blinding sunlight of the perfect summer day. It was ruined so suddenly by the stink of Merle's cigarette smoke waffling by and Neville pulled a face at the man leaning casually on a nearby wall.

"Those things kill you, you know?" Neville sided up to him.

"Everything kills you eventually, kid." Ash was flicked at him.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Dick."

"Bitch."

"I'm wounded by your skills in insults."

"You get inventive, I will too." Merle pushed away from the wall.

Neville chuckled. "So, what was it you wanted to do today that was oh-so-pressing I had to make some wild excuse to my adoring mother's about not-getting into trouble with Uncle Merle."

"Cute." Merle snorted. "Let's just say I'd rather an excuse of taking the piss with you, than what everyone else is doing today."

Neville raised an eyebrow. So, he was being a scapegoat for the old bugger. How fabulous. He felt oh-so privileged. Well, it was better than sitting around in the disgustingly clean and smelly infirmary listening to Andrea gush about how amazingly wonderful the Governor was. She was making him want to vomit with her praising of the man.

"Well then, Uncle Merle, what do you have planned?"

Merle stubbed out his cigarette. "You said you can't perform your wboo-hoo without a wand?"

Neville nodded.

"I say screw that." Merle scoffed. "We're gonna make a man out of you yet, boy." He was shoved roughly forward. "Come on, Walker killing time."

Neville almost squeaked. He almost faltered, but he caught himself. No. He was still a Gryffindor and he fully believed Merle was not a man out to kill him—if anything—the man was out to teach him.

If Michonne knew it was as simple as slipping through a back gate to escape Woodbury she would actually started ranting and broken her quiet persona, Neville was sure. He glanced back at the gate Merle was locking shut curiously. It was well hidden, but someone, eventually would find it someday and the community within seemed so ill prepared for a backend attack, even despite the underling mystery he sensed beneath them.

He still was not sure what it was the Governor was hiding—but he was hiding something under all that suave of his. Neville repressed a shiver. Just thinking about the man made him feel slimy.

In silence, beautiful, wonderful silence, they walked through the tall forest, listening to the soft wind in the high pine trees. They must have strolled for at least an hour, seemingly without a destination, but Neville had an inkling Merle was perfectly aware of where they were heading. When the old bugger finally decided to slow his march, beautiful wildflowers danced around Neville's boots. He knelt, playing soft leaves between his fingers. It felt like a dream, the years he had spent in Hogwart's greenhouses—and even further back, the years he had grown up within the Longbottom greenhouses, tending to the plants therein all on his own, thinking that was the only magic he would ever be able to do.

"You're very attuned to resting earth magic, you know?" He looked up at Merle, who was chewing on the stem of a flower. The man raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Neville stood, brushing off his pants. "That big tree over there, it's really old. It acts as the core to this area of the forest, magic created from the forest is drawn to the tree and released through it. If it were cut down, we'd lose a lot of this section of the forest until another core-tree replaced it."

Merle rubbed his chin. "And that has what to do with me?"

"Well, you naturally took us here."

"Did not."

"Yeah, you did."

The hunter shrugged, looking away. "Come on, time to get to work, kiddo."

"Not sure what I'm actually supposed to be doing?" Neville followed him.

"You're gonna be using your whoo-doo powers to feel for Walkers."

"Seriously?" Neville spluttered. "I can't do that! It doesn't work that way."

"Said who?"

"Me!"

"Yeh just said yeh can feel plants, well, feel Walkers."

"But Walkers are…well…they're not even dead anymore, they're something else entirely. They have no souls." Neville waved his arms around.

"They gotta have something, right?" Merle shrugged, playing with the hook on his prosthetic limb.

Neville deflated. The old bugger was right. As much as he hated to admit it. Plants did not have souls, but even a training herbologist could sense the life source and magic within them and manipulate it.

"All right," he nodded, "I'll give it a try."

"All I'm asking, kiddo."

"Yeah, yeah." Neville rolled his eyes.

Merle made him stand amongst the denser trees and just stinking wait there. At first, he fumed in frustration, but gradually, as time went on, the peaceful surrounds, the sun through the leaves that danced across the wildflowers, filled him with a deep sense of peace.

"So, what is it that you're trying to get out of today?" Neville he listened for an out of place noise that would indicate a Walker in the area. Merle leant against a nearby tree, fiddling with this prosthetic arm.

"Yeh ain't fooling for the Governor's trick about that Military man from the helicopter being all safe and sound, are yeh?"

Neville raised an eyebrow. The Governor might have been pulling the wool over Andrea's eyes with his pretty face and deep voice, but no—Michonne and he had their serious doubts about the welfare of the man who had been pulled out of the helicopter and Merle had just confirmed it.

"Yah," Merle scoffed. "Din think so."

"Let me guess," Neville pouted, "Martinez is taking some men out to find the base. You were supposed to lead them." Caesar Martinez was the left hand of the Governor, just as Merle was the right hand. What Merle did in the shadows, Martinez did in the light of day, and looked rather uncomfortable for having to do it—but staying alive seemed to be his aim. Neville could hardly blame the fellow for wanting that simple pleasure.

"Bingo." Merle popped his lips.

"Without you around, the Governor is going to have to go, isn't he, are you hoping he just…dies someday."

"Bingo."

"Isn't he going to be pissed at you?"

Merle shrugged. "He'll just think I got drunk, or high on something."

Neville laughed, only to squeak and bunch himself up tightly against the hot, sweaty chest that had suddenly engulfed him in a tight embrace. His arm had been snagged by a fierce grip, Merle scarred hand wrenching him forward, away from the grasp of a bloated Walker. The blade of Merle's extended prosthetic limb stabbed viciously upward, through the jaw, into the skull.

Neville cursed, "Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck, kid. I saw it a mile away, you need to pay attention."

"I was talking to you."

"Doesn't matter, talk and pay attention at the same time. Even my idiot brother could do that." Merle's left hand gripped his chin, wiggling it. "What's yeh magic good for if yeh can't sense yeh surroundings. We're gonna stand out here until yeh can pick up a squirrel and shoot it with magical laser beams."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't!"

Merle flicked his nose playfully. "Well, it will."

Neville shoved away. "You're an arse."

"Thank yeh."

"Dick."

"Thank yeh."

"Saggy-ball face."

"Yeh really need to work on your insults. Don they teach you anything in your fancy rich schools?"

Neville breathed sharply through his nose. His shoulder's sagged. Where was Draco Malfoy when he needed him.

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They returned to the prison with very little fanfare. Remus was at the gate to greet them, along with an eager Carl, wanting to hear about the run. Harry humoured him, if only to ease the ache in his chest. Tonight, was going to be a difficult night, saying goodbye to T-Dog, and in a way, goodbye to Ginny as well, since they had never really had a chance to grieve for her, nor even to bury her. He wiped aside tears, trying to smile for Carl, who was climbing all over the trailer, picking at the junk they had collected.

Daryl had an amused smile on his face, watching the kid as he tried to pick up a few bits and pieces to help unload. Eventually the sound of the commotion in the inner courtyard caused the others to join them. Harry swept up to Lori and Sam with a grin.

"Guess what I found!"

"A portable toilet," Sam grumbled.

"Ah, no, but I'll keep my eye out for a camping store." He dragged them both toward the four-wheel drive and heaved open the boot, revealing the baby carriers. "Tah-dah!"

The smile he won from Lori was worth the Walker guts. He had finally managed to make the exhausted, harrowed looking woman smile, even if it was just a faint one. Her fingers reached out, running over the box in a lingering manner.

"I…I haven't seen one of these since…well…since Carl was a baby."

"I figured we'd need them." Harry flicked his wand, lifting both carriers and the bags of baby gear out into the courtyard. "You can both sort out that stuff. The girls had a field day. Seems like baby gear hasn't really been on the menu for things people have needed in a post-world. Let me know what you like best and I'll see if I can add it to my duplication booklet. I'll also work on my seizing spell, I know that Molly…ah…the twins mother, she had this really neat spell that could resize clothes. Most witch mothers had so many fantastic spells like that." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, he knew he was rambling, but the look on Lori's face had tipped him somewhat.

Skye had crouched beside Sam as she pulled out adorable dresses. "The most impractical things I've ever seen in my life." Skye chuckled. "Are we naming our child Puffy Princess Pom Pom."

Harry heard Daryl's snigger. Sam clapped Skye sharply over the head.

"Damnit, Skye, now Daryl is going to call our kid that no matter what sex it is."

"Oh, I will," Daryl piped up. "Yeh can count on it."

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The sun set on their small ceremony for T-Dog, colouring the sky a deep orange and blushed the low lying clouds fluorescent pinks. Hershel stood behind the stone that marked the grave for T-Dog, the words the man spoke Harry was sure he had heard at one Sunday service his aunt had dragged him to at some point or another.

Hershel though made them have meaning, purpose—he spoke them as though he truly, earnestly believed them, and Harry could find no fault in the elderly gentleman for trying to coddle himself with such words. They all needed something to cling to. His trembling fingers found themselves snaking into Luna's, the warmth of her skin something he could cling to, like a solid grasp in reality instead of falling into a mirror that kept shattering around him. Luna's feet were the roots he needed to hold him down. Without looking back at him, she dragged him forward and lay the flowers she had gathered on the mound of dirt for T-Dog before turning to the stone that marked Ginny's place of remembrance. She took off a string of flowers from around her neck and settled them gently across the stone.

"Her magic will always be with us." Luna's hand squeezed his. "Always."

Harry pressed his chin into her shoulder. "Goodbye…" he whispered.

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It was evening by the time Merle deemed it 'safe' to drag them back to Woodbury. Neville had one thing on his mind—his stomach—which growled with almost every step he took. Merle shot him amused glances, making off-handed comments about him being as ravished as a Biter, and perhaps he needed some raw meat.

He ignored the man, knowing he was simply trying to get a rise out of him. It was actually quite amusing to listen to Merle's jibes after all the teasing he had endured at Hogwarts. There was a difference between the gruff man's snarky remarks, that came out in a sort of endearing manner, and those that had once been flung his way by his fellow classmates.

As he watched Merle lock the back gate into Woodbury, Neville lent against a wall, nibbling on a sweet stick of sugar Merle had given him to calm his aching stomach. He had been offered a cigarette, and he had been tempted, but Michonne would have killed him.

"Merle…"

"Yep." Merle turned around, clapping him gently on the shoulder.

"I'm just…curious."

"Curiosity is good in a kid, sorta…I think."

"Right, well, why are you helping me?"

That stopped the man's forward movements and Merle peered through the sweaty whiffs of his hair, piecing blue eyes studying him with a faint frown. Neville shifted uneasily on his feet. It was a tense moment, and perhaps he should not have even spoken, but it had been nibbling at him. Merle just did not seem the sort of man who attached himself to anyone—let alone, well, a kid—and if he did, it was not for kindly reasons.

Merle shoulders sagged suddenly and he tipped backward, heaving a long sigh that rasped through his lungs.

"Fuck kid."

"Ah, no."

Merle chuckled and grabbed for his head, ruffling his hair. "I have a little brother, somewhere…I hope." Merle turned away. "I wasn't the best brother to the little shitty snot."

Neville nodded. That was enough. He smiled as he passed by Merle. "I'll do my best not be a shitty little snot then."

"Ain't gonna work." Merle scoffed.

Passing through the interlinking streets of Woodbury, Neville felt the excited hum in the evening air and a frown deepened his brow. The people of Woodbury had always seemed repressed, never this filled with enthusiasm. It was quite off-putting. He kept himself as close to Merle, but ended up feeling glued to the man's side as Merle led them through the main street. The commotion had been raised by the return of the Governor and his men, who it seemed, had come home with quite the collection of Muggle war machines.

"Wow…" Neville whistled. "They sure picked up a lot of junk."

Merle snorted. "Junk ain't how I'd put it."

Neville pouted. No, perhaps not. He was not an expert on Muggle military gear, but everything that was rolling through the open gates of Woodbury was currently looking rather pretty and pristine. Neville's chest constricted.

"Merle…" he tugged on the man's shirt. "What…what did happen to the man from the helicopter?"

Merle's expression told him everything in a single look that froze him to the core. His magic retreated, coiling itself into a tiny ball within himself—squishing down—so that its rage would not lash out at the Muggles that surrounded him, and not at Merle beside him.

"Down, kid." Merle murmured. "Down."

He felt like some animal being calmed. It would not have surprised him if Merle was actually treating him that way. "You don want to cause a scene do yeh?"

Neville shook his head, breathing in deeply. He closed his eyes, settling his anger.

"You good?"

"Yeah." Neville nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

Merle shuffled forward lazily, nodding toward the infirmary where Michonne was standing, watching the parade of military gear being lead through the front gates with a glint of anger in her own eyes. Neville headed in her direction, taking the steps two at a time.

"We're back!" He cheered.

"Did you have fun?" Michonne planted hands on her hips, studying him for any injuries with one single glance over. Neville grinned, twirling around for her.

"Yep."

She nodded. "Good."

"How is Andrea?" Neville started for the door. "She's not angry at me for being away, is she?"

Michonne stopped him from opening the door and he paused, looking back at her in surprise. The look she was giving him was confusing for a moment, caught somewhere between concern and relief. She was relieved that Andrea was well, but concerned about something else entirely.

Neville frowned.

Michonne pointed across the main street of Woodbury, toward the sight of the utility truck that was rolling in through the front gate.

Neville froze momentarily. Andrea was standing next to the Governor, her face beaming like some goofy house elf, high on Butterbeer, but that—oh—that was not what caused him to duck behind Merle's far larger frame and hide like a coward.

Michonne gaped at him and Merle stood awkwardly like the good shield he was as Neville felt himself begin to shake, unable to control the intense burst of fear. His skin clammed, and his knees weakened to the point that holding himself upright was near impossible.

"Neville?" Michonne held out a hand.

"No," he hissed. "Don't draw attention. That…that man…next to the Governor."

"Not good I take it?" Merle muttered.

"Mass murdering scum-bag. Death Eater. If he sees me…I am dead. We're all dead. We are just dead."

"Wizard I take it?" Michonne was beginning to carefully inch her way toward a backdoor into the infirmary, and Merle was following, forcing Neville to shuffle along with the bulky warrior.

"Yes."

They slipped into the darkness of the infirmary and dashed down the passageways, toward their small room. Neville burst through the door, collapsing onto the nearest bed, all air gushing out of his lungs. He was shaking, like a leaf, and sweat coated him as though he had just run a mile from Walkers.

Merle was quickly shutting all the curtains in the room, his glare intense as he planted himself like as shield by the window facing the main street.

"Alright, who is he?" Merle spat out.

"Lucius Malfoy." Neville wet his dry mouth. "How he got here, I have no idea…but he is…he is extremely dangerous."

"He'll recognise you?" Michonne's fingers were twitching. She was trying to reach for her sword, he could tell. Everything about her had gone into high alert, and she was angry that she had no weapon.

"Oh yeah," Neville nodded. "He'll know who I am. No doubt I look enough like my father now that he'll make that connection by just a glace, and if he doesn't, he'll know by my magical signature."

"Your magical signature?" Michonne whispered.

Neville nodded. "If he gets close enough, he'll be able to tell there is another wizard nearby. I'm not entirely aware of what family magics the Malfoys have, so I can't tell you if he will know me by aura sight or not."

"Okay, so we keep you away from him," Michonne muttered.

"Well," Neville looked to Merle, "if I stick by Merle, his earth magic should mask my magical signature."

"What?"

"Merle's a druid, sorta…" Neville shrugged.

Merle made the same shrugging motion at Michonne, before tensing. "We're going to find out soon enough, your wife is coming back, with her new boyfriend."

"She is not my wife." Michonne hissed, marching over to the window, pushing past Merle and peering out the curtain. "And I will kill that man."

"Be my guest, love." Merle raised his single good hand, "Just let me watch."

Michonne sent him a glare before spinning around, facing Neville.

"Get into the cupboard."

Neville squeaked as she shoved him toward a door, opening it and pushing him inside. She left it slightly open, just enough for light to bleed through, and for him to peak out, to watch as the door to their room opened and Andrea swept in. Neville covered his mouth as he almost spoke, wanting to welcome her back. She looked so much better, and the relief he felt over her health having improved rushed through him. Why—though—why did it have to have been the Governor that healed her—why could he not have healed her himself.

The Governor entered after Andrea, his sinister smile watching his second mother like a viper, and how it made his blood boil. If Michonne did not kill the man, then he knew—oh—he knew—he would find a way to do it himself.

The moment that Lucius Malfoy stepped in, he found himself having to squeeze his magic down, to imagine it as a tiny little seed within himself, hiding it away. The overwhelming presence of the majestic warlock was terrifying. He wondered if this was how Harry felt whenever he was dragged into Dumbledore's office to be interrogated by the Headmaster.

So alone, so naked, with magic stripped bare before a warlock so much more powerful—Neville gritted his teeth—no—he was like Harry, he was the Other-Boy-Who-Damned-Lived.

He was just as powerful as any Death Eater. He would not fear Lucius Malfoy.

"Merle, we missed you today." There was a threat, somewhere behind the Governor's cheerful and casual words.

"I was out, on patrol. Took the kid."

"You took Nev?" Neville heard Andrea' splutter.

"I gave him permission." Michonne shot back. "He's been couped up, needed the air."

"Well, I am glad that the boy is getting along with you Merle. Glad he is beginning to settle in. That is good."

Neville breathed out. He dared to peer up, through the gap in the door, looking at the Governor move around the room. What was the man doing here, what was he waiting for? He had returned Andrea, couldn't he now just leave—

Neville covered his mouth, a horrible thought almost causing him to choke.

Lucius—if there was one thing his Grandmother had taught him about the highclass society of the Wizarding World it was mind magics and its abuse. It had run unchecked. No one had dared stand up to those in power.

Lucius likely already knew he was here. He could have gleamed it from Andrea's mind—or even the Governors.

Neville curled himself up tighter. What was the man's endgame, why was he here?

The door suddenly opened, light flooded in. Neville crawled back, staring wide eyed up at Merle in a frightened panic.

"They've gone kid, you're okay." Merle crouched down. Neville pawed at his face, wiping away the sweat—or perhaps tears—could have been both. He could not control the trembling, no matter how brave he wanted to appear in front of Merle, his boy just refused to calm down.

Neville croaked out. "I need a wand…I…I need…I need a wand."

Merle's left hand reached out, gripping his shoulder. "We'll get yeh one. Don yeh worry. We'll get yeh one."

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Their days became stealth missions. Like clockwork, Neville found himself waking up before the crack of dawn, creeping out into the silence of Woodbury's unnaturally still streets, to await the arrival of Merle by the back gate into the woodlands.

Each day Merle sent him into the forests, convinced a wand could be found. The man ranted on about wizards before wand-making, and what-did-he-honestly-think-wizards had just sprung up waving wands around 'don't-be-stupid-yeh-bitch'.

If anyone—anyone—could find him something to channel his magic it would be the crazy old fart, Neville was sure. Something wild and mad lay under all the bitterness and hatred that Merle had collected over the years. He was not a good man—Neville knew that—but there was a stark difference between a man who was good and a man who would die for what they cherished.

Merle would die someday. It was in his eyes. He loved so deeply it would kill him.

And so Neville searched. Not for Michonne, not for Andrea, not even because the fear of Lucius Malfoy drove him, but because Merle believed there was a wand somewhere in the forest.

Stupid—stupid—Merle—that was why he sat in the grass laced in mildew, damp up to his knees, clutching a stick in his trembling hand, staring at the rock he had just transfigured into a knife.

"Merlin…"

The thrum of the stick in his grasp was like nothing he had felt before, nothing like his father's wand, and nothing like the wand he had replaced that with once his Grandmother had let him. Those had felt like mere idle twigs compared to the lightning rod he now held.

"What's different?" he whispered. "There is no core…it's just…it's just a stick...it's just a stick…I don't understand."

He sensed Merle behind him. The man crouched, as if he was some sort of frightened, skittish animal that needed to be treated carefully unless he bolted in a panic.

"What's there tah understand?" Merle offered, "Yeh magic needs a channel, in desperate times, it'll figure something out on its own. We all do."

"No, but…a wand needs a magical core. A Dragon heart-string, or…a unicorn hair…or something!" Neville croaked out.

"You seem like a pretty ordinary bloke to me. Keep it simple I say."

Neville laughed weakly, thinking oddly of Harry and his very unordinary wand. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"If it makes yeh feel better, I'll carve it up a bit, make it fancy for you."

Neville nodded. "I'd…I'd like that."

"Besides," Merle snatched it from him and he instantly felt the loss, instantly felt like his arm had been removed, and the pain of being a wandless wizard returned. "We need to dry it out, harden it, make sure it can't be broken easily. Give it a good varnish, those sorts of things. Can't have a young lord like you walking around with an ugly looking stick."

"It's wand."

"It's a bloody stick." He was rapped over the head with his own wand.

Evening fell, and the Walkers grew restless in the cool air, Merle finally decided it was safe to return to Woodbury. They crept between the empty streets toward the small house they had been set up in now that Andrea was well recovered. Neville hated the house, hated its cute little windows, its cute little door, the rose-coloured carpet and flowered furniture. Andrea gushed over how adorable it was—because the Governor had given it to them—and it was normal—and it was not like living out in the wild, under the stars.

Had she ever stopped to ask him what he wanted? No.

Kicking off his boots at the back door Neville paused, watching as Merle glanced around, doing a quick sweep before he ducked inside. Voices murmured from the kitchen and Merle stalled Neville with a hand against his chest. Neville frowned, glancing up at the man, who touched a finger to his lips, calling for total silence.

Together they crept carefully down the passage, and the voices grew in clarity. Neville bit his lips, compressing an intense urge to stomp into the kitchen and demand the Governor get the hell out of the house and away from Andrea. He had to remind himself—Andrea was capable of looking after herself, even if she got herself into a terrible situation of her own making, she would manage to scramble out of it.

They must have been having a meal, which made his stomach grumble in protest at the smell that waffled out of the kitchen, but it was the conversation that peaked his interest.

"Are you positive there are people in this prison, Governor?" Andrea sounded concerned.

"It is where Lucius came from." The Governor must have moved, for a chair creaked. "They tried to kill him, Andrea. He has told me that they are murderers, horrible people, and we cannot have such scum nearby. It needs to be dealt with."

"Yes. I see."

A pause. Neville was sure Andrea's features were compressed into a deep frown. Knowing her, she was annoyed she was not able to see for herself the people the Governor was speaking of, to assess the situation.

"Let's not talk of such things after such a lovely meal." The Governor's chair slid back. Merle motioned to Neville and they slid further away from the door, into the darkness of the corridor. "You'll come home with me, for some wine?"

Neville surged forward. Merle garbed his arm, wrenching him backward. He struggled against the man who clamped his one hand over his mouth and smothered him against his chest.

"Don't. You do not want to make a scene. Don't."

Neville curled his hands into Merle shirt, blinking back the tears that blinded him. The front door opened. Andrea's laughter vanished into the night as the door clapped shut. Merle released him and he stumbled away, swearing up a storm.

"Neville." Michonne called out. "Enough. She's making her choice."

"Fuck her bad choices."

"Neville." Michonne stepped out of her room. "Calm down, you'll blow the electricity out."

"I'm hungry." Neville croaked out.

Michonne nodded. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him against her shoulder for a moment, her hand tangled into the mess that was his hair before she moved away, pressing her lips to his forehead.

"Let's make you both something."

She moved past Merle, into the kitchen.

It took some time to clear away and clean the leftover dishes from the meal Andrea had made for the Governor, and the sick feeling Neville felt would not leave his gut. By the time Michonne placed a bowl of pasta in front of him though, the sick feeling was more than likely due to just needing a solid meal. He had been spoiled, coming to Woodbury, getting used to eating food again, on a regular basis.

The meal was finished in relative silence, like most meals. Eventually Merle took out his carving knife and began work on his wand. Neville watched him work under the light of the oil lamp. The sound of Michonne washing the dishes making the scene almost normal, as if he was sitting in a real kitchen, with a mother and a father.

He blinked at the odd thought and shook his head.

"Merle, do you…know what the Governor was saying, about that prison?" Neville looked to Merle, who paused from his work. He tapped the tip of his chin with his hook.

"Not sure. I know there is a prison nearby, we thought about taking it for ourselves awhile back, but it's overrun with geeks."

"Sounds to me like someone else has taken it."

"Good for them." Merle shrugged.

"Maybe not." Michonne sat back on a chair, folding her arms. She motioned with her head to the nearby window, the curtains pulled across blocked their view of the heavily armed street that lay beyond. "They are looking geared up for a war out there ever since this Luscious man came."

Neville choked on his tongue. "Lucius, it's Lucius."

"What did I say?"

"Luscious." Merle cracked a laugh.

Michonne frowned. She waved a hand around, dismissing them both and their laughter.

Neville calmed his chuckles. "Its odd though, the Governor said that Lucius had come from there, and that Lucius indicated they had tried to kill him…"

"Everyone tires to kill everyone these days, kid."

"No," Neville looked to Merle. "Lucius Malfoy is not someone you just try to kill, he's a warlock. Ordinary humans, Muggles, you're just toys to him. Something is going on here."

"Think we should go and check it out?" Merle offered.

"Well, yeah…but…" Neville bit his lips. "Someone has to look after Andrea. I don't…I don't trust her here with the Governor and Lucius."

"Draw me up a map," Michonne tapped the table, getting Merle's attention. "I'll go and check it out."

"But Michon—"

Michonne shook her head. "Andrea knows I do not like it here. It will be far less suspicious if I leave, and if they do come after me, all the better, they will be focused on me, and not on you and your magic."

"She has a point." Merle pointed at her with the half-carved wand.

Neville pouted, folding back into his chair. "Well, I just want it stated that I hate this place as well."

Michonne reached over, she cupped his cheek. "I know. We'll work it out."

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Harry blinked at the blood and brains that splattered across his glasses.

One moment he had been happily walking beside Skye across the courtyard, chatting about where to begin building the wall. Rick and Sirius were mere meters away, locked in a yelling match—of all damned things.

Then Skye staggered. Blood. Harry felt another bullet, the air hissed past his ear. Sirius' shout echoed somewhere around him, but all he saw was Skye, lying on the grass, a halo of deep red blood leaking from a bullet wound that had ruptured through his skull.

Sniper.

His magic burned, the grass under his feet died in a circle as he spun, his wand escaping its hoister as everything living around him was captured in a glow of aura. He sucked in a sharp breath. Ploughing toward their safe-haven were two trucks. He could see them, clear as day, despite the forest between them.

"Rick! We've got incoming!" Harry shouted.

Sirius had already levitated Skye's limp body halfway across the outer-courtyard. Glenn and Daryl were running in their direction. Harry cursed.

Sniper. Damn-it. He threw out a shield as a bullet kissed the ground near Glenn, causing the man to drop and roll.

A crack of apparition snapped beside him, Fred appeared.

"Where is the sniper?" Fred shouted.

Harry pointed toward the trees. "Be careful."

"Oh trust me," the red head snarled, "I'll be very careful." He disapparitied.

Harry took off in a run toward Glenn and Daryl.

"We're going to have company! Through the main gate. Two trucks. One full of walkers."

"What?" Glenn cried. "Who are they?"

Harry flung up a shield as the prison gates were torn open by the first of the trucks ploughing through. Gun fire hailed down over them.

"Keep the shield up, James!" Harry winced at Sirius' call. His godfather was back in his Auror shoes, so it was only natural that his somewhat muddled mind was replacing him with his father. The green burn of the killing curse cut through the air, coming so easily from his godfather's wand and lips. Harry cringed beside Glenn as three men dropped dead, easily, only for two more to replace them, but the breather was enough for them to make the mad dash behind the old prison bus.

Harry dropped his shield, panting heavily at the exhaustion. He wiped off sweat.

Bullets scattered the side of the bus.

"Fuck." Daryl spat. "Can't get a clear shot. They're releasing the biters."

"Shit." Rick reloaded his gun.

"Killing curse doesn't work on Walkers." Harry reminded Sirius. "Sirius! Sirius!"

"Skye's body." Sirius whispered. "I left it…damn it…I left it out there."

"He won't turn," Daryl briefly glanced to Harry. "It was a clean headshot. Whoever their sniper is, they're a good shot."

A sudden crack of apparition startled them. Sirius' wand was in Fred's face, but he knocked it aside as he dropped the limp body of the female sniper in front of Rick.

"They're attacking from the other side! They're inside the prison."

"Fuck." Daryl was first to move, the man may as well have apparitied at the speed he ran. Fred did disapparitiate, followed quickly by Sirius. Rick started cursing and Harry just ran, his heart in his throat. This was not happening—this—this was not happening.


	14. Chapter 14

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 **Chapter 14**

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Luna dragged Lori through the prison corridors, the grip she had on the woman's wrist was fierce, but Lori was beyond hysterical and a calming draught was not an option in her condition. Ahead of them Carl and Beth checked doors for any possible hideaway, and behind them Hermione directed a stumbling Ron, while old Hershel took up the rear. Somewhere further beyond them, she could hear the sound of gunfire. Sam, Carol and Maggie had remained behind with Remus to defend their home, ordering her and Hermione to take Lori and run. She felt so stupid. She should never have left them to fight alone. Sam was still nursing her sprained shoulder. She should have come with them. In the whole flurry of the moment, realizing they were under attack, everything had just come crushing down.

Draco.

Where was Draco.

Luna shook her head, clearing the panicked thoughts. This was not helping the situation. Draco was quite capable of looking after himself. Carol, Maggie and Sam were all fine. They had their Muggle guns.

Suddenly the earth magic screamed at her. Luna staggered, causing Lori to halt in confusion as Luna hit the ground, scraping her knees.

She ignored the pain, gripping her skull as white light blinded her. Everything was ablaze, even Hershel's hands on her shoulders burned. There was a shifting in reality around her, if she could just reach out and grasp the folding white sheets she could see what had so suddenly altered the course of their path. It was almost there, so close, her fingers brushed the loose strands rushing past her.

She was flung back into the sound of cracking gunfire. Hermione was standing over her, wand work deflecting the Muggle weapons to the nearby wall. Ron was valiantly attempting to shoot off stunners with his left hand.

Luna cursed under her breath. Her legs were like iron. Always the same after such an intense seer episode. She needed to move. Sweat pooled around her collar bone as she buried her fingernails into the skin of her thighs, forcing pain to make them move. "Please…please…" she croaked out.

"Ron! No!" Hermione shouted.

Luna's head snapped up. She saw Ron's wand fly out of his hand, likely responding to a rebound of a badly waved spell—not unusual, considering he was using his non-dominant hand—but it was his movement to go after it that caused Hermione's shout.

Luna reached up, trying to grab for his leg. But just like she had been unable to grab for the filaments of reality, she fell short for Ron as he stepped outside of Hermione's shield. A rain of bullets knocked him flat. Luna covered her mouth before a scream could erupt from her lungs as her world slowed, the sight of Ron falling, blood riddled his chest. She froze. Her hands were covered it in, smearing her face. Luna scrambled away.

"Luna!" Hermione's voice was all that stalled her. The panic in her friend's eyes as the masked men bore down upon them. She gripped her wand with her bloodied fingers and looked back.

Hershel was crouched beside Lori and Beth protectively.

Carl's fierce eyes glinted in the darkness as he loaded his gun and stepped toward them. She wished her arm would stop trembling.

It was just them against the world.

Or so she thought. The door in the corridor, the only door—that could have so easily lead to another storage block—blew off its hinges as Draco slammed through.

The force of his spell sent it off its hinges and smashing into the opposing wall. Concreate shattered, pluming into the air. Luna curled into a ball as the young pureblood released a barrage of spellwork at the men. The colours of the spells ignited the small corridor. She saw it, the frightening green of the killing curse released from Draco's wand. He did not even hesitate, it came so easily from him and so suddenly—so suddenly—she was grateful he stood there over them, like a silver angel who could weld the blade she dared not yet touch.

Hermione's grief had turned to rage.

Her shield faded and the remaining men fell as their legs were shattered by boxing hexes. Hermione stormed through them, Draco at her side, disarming their weapons. She stood over them, her skin crackling with magic.

"Who are you?" She pointed her wand at the nearest man.

Luna watched as Draco knelt. "Answer the lady." His voice was so cold. It was like magic itself was coating her skin with ice when he spoke. The poor muggle lying at their feet had no hope, gaping at the two volatile teens, his mouth opened, and he choked.

"He can't speak." Luna scrambled up suddenly. "Draco! He can't!" She cried. "Kill him, kill him now!"

Draco reacted, an instant killing curse leaving his lips. Luna skidded to a halt, collapsing onto her knees and covering her face as relief drained out of her.

Hermione stormed up to her, "Luna, he was going to tell us—"

Draco grabbed Hermione from behind. "No, Hermione, look." He pushed her back to the dead man, pulling apart the collar of his shirt, revealing a faintly glowing rune etched into his skin. Hermione paled. She looked back to Luna.

"A binding oath. How did you know?"

Luna tapped her temple.

Hermione nodded in silent understanding. Draco's attention shifted down the corridor, he picked up the discarded weapons, throwing one to Hermione and another to Luna. "We need to keep moving. They've released Walker's into the prison. Hershel, can you walk?"

Hershel took an offered weapon. "I am not going to be a problem."

Their eyes settled on Lori and Carl, curled up against a nearby wall.

"Carl?" Draco held out a gun. "We need to move. We have to find some place safe for your mother."

"I think I know somewhere." Hermione checked her weapon. "Ron…" she paused, her gaze briefly shifting further down the corridor, where Ron lay. "Ron and I found it awhile back…it should be good."

"Right, let's go then." Draco waved his hand.

Luna quickly headed for Lori, gently pulling her upright. "Just a bit further, Lori."

She knew that Hermione was crying. She could hear her as she lead them through the dark corridors. It felt like an eternity, the walk, when truly, it was not at all that long—but the sensation of it dragging was awful, they had to pause at each turn, listen for the Walkers, wait, kill, move again. Whoever it was that had invaded them had come prepared and infested their home with the undead.

They were deep into the prison, what Luna could only presume was the basement, and she had to idly wonder why Ron and Hermione had come down here—possibly her thoughts should not have wondered there.

"Draco…that you…" A voice stirred out of the darkness.

Harry.

That sounded like Harry. Luna's heart raced.

Draco shined his wand into the murk and Harry's face was revealed, behind him Daryl stood like a guardian.

"Thank goodness." Harry breathed out. "We've been searching for an hour. The breach in the wall was huge…and there are so many Walkers! They had a stereo system blasting out music." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anyway…"

Harry's gaze settled on her, and suddenly, she was in his arms. When had skinny Harry, little Harry, become strong Harry, Harry who could lift her without trembling and looking as though he was going to fall over?

Why had she never noticed him changing.

"Luna?" He gripped her cheeks. "Luna, love, Luna? Luna are you hurt? Luna!"

She weakly shook her head.

He hugged her. Her chest tightened. Harry was covered in blood. It was not his blood. She looked up, to Daryl, as he fitted a new arrow to his crossbow. She loathed the look in his eyes. It was filled with so much pain.

Harry pulled away. "Where is Sam?"

Sam—

Why would—

Luna bit her lips. Her fingers fisted into her bloodied dress. The pain in Daryl's eyes made sense now. She sucked in a deep breath, promising herself she would not cry—not yet—not here. Hermione was already crying enough for everyone. She would cry later, much—much—much later.

"She's back at C-Block, with Remus and the girls."

"You stay here," Daryl motioned to Harry, "you do not open this door to anyone but me, or Sirius, do yeh hear?"

Harry bobbed his head. "Yes sir."

Daryl vanished, as if he had never been there with them, and it felt like a piece of her safety wall crumbled away. Harry turned to Draco and Hermione.

"We couldn't deal with all the Walkers, there is just far too many of them for Daryl and I. We need to seal up and reinforce this area and keep quite. Its going to take weeks to clear these levels."

"Did you at least seal the breech in the wall?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "I assure you. I sealed it."

A cry pierced the air. Harry tensed, turning back and forth. Draco touched the open door, ushering them all inside. "It's just Lori."

"Just Lori?" Harry headed down the stairs, two at a time. Luna quickly followed, feeling Draco come up behind her. She had felt the spell work he had used on the door into the boiler room. Such dark warding spells, likely only ones Draco himself knew from his own Family Magics. Perhaps she should ask him some time to teach her—would he though—where they all family now, sharing Family Magics?

Hermione had set up faintly glowing lights throughout the boiler room, enough that it was no longer pitch black. Lori lay on a quilt, with Beth propping her upright. Carl was to a corner, pacing back and forth.

Harry approached Hershel, who was washing his hands in a hot bowl of water.

"Harry, good to see you." Hershel nodded.  
"Lori…"

"She's in labour, yes."

Harry covered his face, rubbing away the dried blood. "This is bad…"

"We will have to make do here." Hershel turned. "Surely you children can make it a little bit more comfortable."

Luna frowned. "Why not just use my tower?" She held up the keys around her neck. "It would be much more hyenic, yes?"

Every eye turned her way. She blinked at the odd expressions and shuffled uneasily on her feet.

Suddenly Hermione launched onto her feet. "Luna! By the Lady!" She cried out. "We…we could have used your key-universe to hide in! Ron…Ron…Ron is dead! Luna! He is dead!" Hermione spun and slammed a fist into wall.

"Hermione!" Harry flung up his hands. "Mother of Arthur. Don't hurt yourself, you idiot."

Luna frowned. "That did not cross my mind, I apologize."

Draco's hand settled on her shoulder, a firm squeeze that she was sure was supposed to be reassuring and kind, settled on her ruffled nerves as she watched Harry try to calm Hermione. It was so rare to see Hermione in such a state. Perhaps she should have remembered the magical keys around her neck. She bit her lips. Poor Ron. Was it her fault he was dead?

"Luna…" Harry's voice centred her buzzing mind, and she realized that thing had shifted around her. Everyone had entered into the safety of her potions tower, leaving her with Harry, on the outside, staring at the entrance of the boiler room Daryl had left through. The moaning of Walkers could be heard outside and her skin crawled.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered.

Harry's wand moved in quick flicks, reinforcing the door with a ward, though she wondered if it would hold. He took her hand, and the warmth of his touch flooded through the cool chill of her nightmarish thoughts. "We're going to be fine." He assured. "We're going to be fine."

Minutes passed, or perhaps it was longer, she could not tell, she was lost in Harry's arms. She just wanted to be safe, and Harry was safe. He was safe like her home had once been safe. Beaten, crooked, with tiles falling out, and floors that could be tripped over—Harry was just as broken as her house had been, but he was as contradictory in his safeness.

She pulled away only when the door into her key-universe opened and Carl stumbled out, trembling and pale. He slid down the nearest wall, rocking back and forth.

Luna pealed out of Harry's safe arms, drifting over to the boy. She knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He released a sob, curling into the curve of her neck. She narrowed her lips, briefly glancing to Harry.

It seemed things would not be as fine as he hoped.

Harry massaged his aching shoulders. How long had it been now? A couple of hours. He summoned a quick tempus. His eyebrows lifted. That did explain why he was so exhausted. Five hours since they had been stuck in the boiler room. His eyes drifted back to the door Draco had warded. He had heard noises outside, every so often, and Draco's masterful wards being activated. Blood had seeped through the crack under the metal door and down a few steps. His stomach twisted, a small part of him hoping that it was just Walkers that had encountered the House of Malfoy's wards. It was a shame Draco couldn't ward a whole house, or the whole damned prison. Harry closed his eyes, willing the anger out of him.

He had to accept they were still children. Given time Draco would learn. Given time even he would learn. They had just been thrust into this situation so young.

Turning away Harry headed back down the stairs. Luna sat off to one side, folding pieces of discarded paper into small cranes. She was making a toy, she had told him, for the baby.

Harry's attention drifted to the doorway into the potions tower. He had dared not enter. A part of him wanted too—he wanted to know what was happening beyond the threshold, but another part of him dreaded it. It filled him with immense fear. As if him staring at the door had called forth it opening, it did open and Draco slid out.

Harry startled, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

Draco waved him over. "Harry, I ah, need a word."

Such an ominous sentence. Harry swallowed, drying to wet his throat.

"It's not going well." Draco bowed his head.

"Yeah, I gathered that." Harry murmured.

"It's a good thing Luna opened her potions tower or this would have been even worse, we might even have lost the baby as well, but, we're going to lose Lori, Harry. I can't do anything, and Hershel can't either. She's bleeding internally somewhere, and there is only so much magical healing I know."

Draco's hands trembled around his wand. Harry reached out, gripping his friends fist tightly. Draco breathed out, drawing a deeper breath that he released slowly, as if drawing strength to raise his chin. Clear grey eyes faced him. "She wants you to do it."

"What?" Harry stepped back.

"The killing curse. She wants you to do it. I offered, being the…well…I donno, head healer around here I suppose, but she likes you Harry. Morgana. Everyone likes you."

"I can't kill someone I like." Harry choked out. "It doesn't work like that."

"Sure it does. The curse just works on the feeling of hatred and rage, same way the patronus works on happy memories. I sure you have a lot of hatred and rage."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to think of Uncle Vernon, of Dumbledore and the bitter sweetness of Voldemort's touch against his mind. He knew hatred and rage so well, sometimes it frightened him—but to use it against Lori.

"Harry." It was Draco's turn to grip his hand. "Please. She is suffering, and she will turn and suffer all the more."

"The babe?"

"It's fine. You can see her if you like. Beth and Hermione are giving her a wash."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay, but, shouldn't Rick—"

"She's not going to last that long."

"But, Draco—"

"I'm serious Harry. We either do this now, or she's going to turn and we're going to have a worse situation on our hands. This way, she can say goodbye to Carl and be remembered…fondly."

Harry breathed in deeply. "Right." He nodded. "I understand. Let's do this."  
He looked back to Luna, sitting on a ledge, folding her paper cranes. "Luna…I'll ah…I'll be back soon."

She looked up, her eyes shining with tears. His heart broke. This was all wrong.

Following Draco into the potions tower Harry shouldered the immense weight that fell on him the moment his feet touched the stonework of the floor. There was a heavy atmosphere surrounding him, and it weighted more than rocks in a backpack. Lori sat perched up by the herbal garden, a weak smile on her hollow, pale face as she spoke softly to a crying Carl.

Sensing Hershel's presence Harry glanced up at the elderly man.

"How is she?"

"Surprisingly, this is the happiest I have seen her in months." Hershel sighed.

"And the babe?"

"Healthy, from what I can tell."

Harry nodded.

"We don't have much time, Harry."

"I understand." Harry shifted uneasily, drawing his wand. He quietly headed toward Lori and Carl, loathing interrupting them. Carl's eyes widened upon spotting him and Harry smiled weakly.

"Hey Carl."

"H…Harr…Harry…can't…can't your magic save her?"

Crouching down Harry took up Lori's limp hand. "Magic is amazing, Carl, it really is. It can do so many things, but it can't save everyone. It couldn't save my parents either. I'm sorry Carl, I'm sorry Lori."

"Don't be sorry." Lori weakly shook her head. "I am so grateful we found your people. I know Carl and Rick, and the baby, they'll be safer now. Harry. Please." Her hand squeezed his tightly.

Harry bowed his head. The emotions were always there, buried deep inside, just waiting to be brought to the surface. Draco had taught him how to harness it, the same way Professor Lupin had taught him how to release a Patrous. Not everyone could cast the killing curse, just as not everyone could cast a Patrous. At least he could do both. Raising his wand Harry looked to Lori, her eyes had turned to Carl, her hands folded around his. Carl had curled up against her chest.

Harry muttered the curse. Her body fell limp and he caught her before she fell. Carl pulled away covering his face. For a moment, Harry was sure the boy was going to start sobbing, but he sucked in a tight breath and wiped his wet cheeks with the sleeves of his shirt.

"She's not hurting anymore?"

"No." Harry shook his head.

"Good." Carl nodded. "Good."

000000000000

00000

00

Hot chocolate.

Who would have thought it was something that could be made in a potions tower, but he supposed coco and milk was something used in several potions, so it was not surprising they had it on hand.  
Draco was a genius—for a Slytherin. The pureblood handed out the mugs to them all one by one. Harry accepted his with a smile.

"There isn't a cow just…walking around in here, is there?" Hershel inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Luna paused from sipping the hot beverage. She looked to Draco and frowned.

"I…actually…don't know…there might be. I have not explored and catalogued everything in this tower."

Draco nodded. "Towers like this are very rare in the magical world. We're lucky the Lovegood family had one, we're lucky Luna had her Family heirloom on her when she came with us. My Family Heirloom is not as exciting…" he chuckled. "The milk churner simply refills with milk. So I do not know if there is a cow around."

"Can we use the milk to feed the baby?" Carl motioned to Hermione cradling the little bundle smothered in blankets.

Harry shook his head, settling his mug down on a nearby table. "It's not recommended for newborns and babies under a year old."

"What are we going to do?" Carl looked up.

"Don't worry. We'll figure something out." Harry offered.

"Here Carl, do you want to hold her." Hermione stepped forward, offering the baby. Carl's face paled.

"I…I don't know…I have never…"

Harry nudged him. "You'll do great. Here, it's easy." He took the baby from Hermione and carefully settled her in Carl's arms, manoeuvring them into position. Carl rocked gently, in the uncomfortable manner only a boy his age could.

"Make sure you prop up the head, her neck can't support her head yet, so you have to be very careful."

Carl smiled weakly. "She's…she's so…" A tear streaked down Carl's cheek.

Harry hugged him. "Yeah. I know."

Two more hours they waited. It was agonizing. Harry was sure he paced a hole in the floor of the boiler room. Draco must of made half a dozen potions, and still complained it would never be enough. Then it came, the knuckles hitting the iron door in a heavy thudding noise. Harry froze on the spot, looking toward Luna and her pile of paper cranes.

He rushed up the stairs, placing his ear against the metal.

"Sirius!"

"Hey Bambi. Tell Draco to take down the wards, will you, they recognize me as the Head of House of Black, but I don't want to test it. Oh, don't worry, he's done it."

Harry looked around. Draco was making his way up the stairs. The bags under his eyes making him look older. He had anchored the wards to his own magical core, without a wardstone to act as an anchor. Harry's gut twisted with irritation at their lack of knowledge. Being unable to tap into the ambient magic of the earth was making things so much more difficult. Draco had suffered because their magical training had been incomplete.

The door opened and Sirius pocked his head in. "Hey, good, you're both alive. Nice warding work Draco, very impressive." Sirius praised.

Draco bowed his head.

Harry peered around. Daryl was not with him. Glenn however was, with Maggie in the background, standing guard.

Sirius ushered them both down stairs. He nodded in approval at the sight of Luna's tower door. "Good, okay, get back inside. Luna give me the keys to your tower. I'll carry you all back to C-Block, it'll be much safer."

"No," Harry turned. "I want to come with you."

"Harry."

"No." Harry refused. Draco rolled his eyes, ignoring the coming argument as he ushered Luna into the tower. Luna threw the keys in Sirius' direction. Harry caught them before Sirius could.

"I'm carrying them."

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry…"

"I've been cooped up in here for hours, Sirius. Don't make me go back in there. Please. Sirius…please…I…" He bowed his head. "Lori…I killed Lori."

Sirius' lips grew narrow, and if it was possible, his face ever gaunter. He nodded and waved Harry out the door without words. Harry's shoulders sagged heavily. He waited in the darkness as Sirius packed up Luna's tower door. It was in silence that they waved their way back through the dark corridors of the prison, dispatching what Walkers they could whenever confronted with the stragglers that had infested their home. Eventually the safety—or well, what had been the safety—of C-Block came into view and Harry tried so hard to ignore the blood that splattered the walls and the stench that fouled the air. He paused at the threshold as Sirius vanished inside to set up Luna's tower once more.

He wanted to enter—he really did—but his knees were so weak, and his head spun about with thoughts that he didn't want to face.

What if—what it Skye was dead—what if Rick was dead—what if Maggie, or Glenn, or Sam, or Carol—anyone he loved could be dead. How could he faced a reality without them?

Sirius' head poked out, a worn smile touching his lips.

"Come on, Bambi, it's alright."

Harry stepped forward, past the iron gates, into what remained of Carol and Sam's kitchen. It was in utter disarray, and all Luna's flowers were strewn around like a wind had ripped through.

"Daryl?" Harry attentively asked, his heart thudding in his chest.

Sirius smiled wearily. "He tripped over and broke his foot."

The relief that rushed out of him made Harry suddenly dizzy. "W…what?"

Draco shoved past. "I swear," the young wizard ranted, "you're all trying to kill me. Luna! We're going to need to open up another section of your tower. I need more supplies, these idiots just keep wounding themselves."

"Hey, hey," Sirius touched his chest, "this was not our fault."

No, Harry's frown deepened, it was not their fault. Someone had attacked them. Someone had done this to them—

Someone was going to pay dearly.

Sirius' hand was gentle against the curve of his back, leading him through the gate into C-Block. He tried to ignore the bodies of the fallen men being dragged out by Axel, Glenn and Big Tiny, but it was hard not to just stare at them in seething hatred. He wished Sirius or Remus would just _banish_ the bodies already and be done with it—screw the laws of Magic.

As promised, Daryl was sitting on a chair looking utterly spent, splattered with more blood that was healthy, arguing with a very annoyed look Carol who was attempting to wash a gash on his face.

She gave up upon sighting his approach.

Harry frowned as she passed the bowl of water and wash-cloth into his hands. "You deal with him, I have enough to do."

Carol stalked past. Harry noticed her own limp.

"Daryl, she's hurt too."

"We all are." Daryl's exhausted shrug was painfully slow. Harry winced. How long had it been since they'd all had a decent sleep?  
He set the bowl of bloodied water down and set about trying to tidy the man up as best he could. He wasn't sure if it was because Daryl had lost the last bit of fight in him, or if he was just more comfortable with a kid tending to him—whatever it was, he sat with just a scowl on his face, wincing every so often.

"How is the kid?"

"Which kid?" Harry asked.

"The Arsekicker?"

"Oh, you mean…the baby? She's good."  
"A girl?" Daryl smiled. "It's a girl."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Anyone seen Rick, yet?" Daryl looked around their group.

Maggie was the one to answer. "Dad took him into Luna's Tower tah say goodbye to…to…Lori—"

"Okay!" Sam swung through the gate suddenly, pulling a new, clean shirt over her head. She threw another at Daryl. "Now," she held out another, "where is my husband? While I appreciate the heroics, I much prefer being a damsel, it makes for better sex."

The silence, Harry concluded, could have cut a Walker's neck. No one answered. Everyone looked at her and that, perhaps, was the worst thing he had ever seen, the sudden realisation of that moment that accrued to all of them.

None of them had been prepared for this moment.

Sam's eyes widened, all colour draining from her cheeks. She made a beeline for the entrance of C-Block. Sirius was on his feet, but Remus and snatched him back, shaking his head.

Despite his broken foot, Daryl grappled for her, tackling her down.

"Sam…wait a minute!"

"What do you mean, wait a minute!?" She cried out from under him. "Oh, gods, Daryl, don't tell me…don't tell me he's…"

"Sam, just listen…"

Harry choked back a sob. Merlin. Oh Merlin. He could not do this. Ron. Lori. He buried his head into his knees.

"Skye got shot," Daryl tried again. "It hit a lung. It's pretty bad."

Sam curled into a ball, a tiny little ball, as small as she could get, in Daryl's lap, as sobs of denial shook her shoulders.

Hot tears scorched Harry's cheeks. He scrambled up. Escape. He had to get away. He tore out of C-Block, out into the warm air of the midday sun. The blue sky mocked him as he slid to his knees. Bodies of Walkers lay around him. Glenn, Axel, George and Big Tiny were already beginning to set them into piles to burn.

His fists clenched as a swell of magic surged through his core. Whoever had done this—he was going to destroy them. No one harmed his family.

No one.

Harry slammed open the door into the prison cell, causing Draco to spin sharply.

"Where is she?"

"Who—"

"Don't mess with me Draco! The sniper Fred caught, where is she? You patched her up, didn't you?"

Draco held out a hand, it pressed against his chest like a barrier. "Harry, you need to calm down, your magic is going wild. You go in there, you will do something you seriously regret."

"Worried I'll kill her! She deserves it."

"Listen to yourself." Draco's grip tightened on his shirt. "Just…listen…Harry, please. Wait here until I get a calming draught into you. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret later."

"I don't need a calming draught!"

Draco pushed him back. "You listen to me!" His friend barrelled up to him, and Harry backed away, not for the first time realizing the height difference between them. Draco loomed over him, his chest panting, sweat mixed with blood capturing in his collar bone. "I know you will go in there and you will kill him, how do I know this, because you, Harry Potter, are an avenger. Professor Dumbledore never wanted to see it, but damn it all, we Slythierns saw it the moment you walked through Hogwarts bloody gates! So you shut the fuck up, sit your arse down and let me get a calming draught into you."

Harry slowly slid down onto the seat, covering his face.

Draco stormed off to his bench.

"She hurt Skye. Ron and Lori are dead! _Morgana_ , Draco, I need to…I just…I need to…do something!"

"I know, Harry, I know…" Draco's tone softened. "I know."

"Ron…Lori…"

His hands were pulled away and a glass was pressed to his lips. Draco crouched in front of him. "Just breathe, let your magic leak out through your feet, back into the earth, let it go."

The calming draught seeped through him like sap, his muscles relaxed and with the relaxation came a sensation of tingling, besetting his limbs, it was instantly distracting from the situation at hand and he wondered if that was why it was supposed to be calming.

"Okay…" Draco held his shoulders. "You think you're good?"

Harry nodded weakly. "Ye…yeah…I'm good."

"I'll let you in, but you stay out of Sirius and Rick's way, alright, this is adult business. We're still just kids, remember."

"I know."

"I'm being serious, Harry. I know this situation has changed a lot, but take it from a child of a Death Eater, we're still kids and we need to let adults do their thing. Even if we think it's a stupid thing. Our job is to stay alive to actually be adults."

Harry smiled. "True words, Draco."

Draco waved his wand in the direction of the nearby isolation ward and the door opened. Harry managed one last glance back at his friend before slipping into the darkened room. He noticed Glenn standing off to the corner of the room and quickly shuffled over to join him. He received a small nod. It felt wrong, not have Daryl or Skye around, but Glenn was enough of a safety net. He wondered why Remus wasn't with them—but then—someone had to be watching the parameter and Remus would have offered to do that.

Harry leant against the back wall, watching the scene unfold with a growing anxiety tightening in his stomach. Rick was stalking the small room. Sirius sat on a chair, facing the bound sniper. She looked so average now that she just sat there, defeated. Wait. Not defeated. Her eyes gleamed with a fierceness akin to Rick's, something that only a survivor held. Harry frowned. Why the hell had she attacked their little group, what the hell had they done to her?

"We've got a problem…" Sirius stood slowly.

"I think I noticed." Rick growled out.

Sirius waved a hand about. "Bigger one. Lucius has teamed up with some folk in some town called Woodbury." He motioned at the woman, whose eyes had widened in fright and confusion. Harry wasn't surprised, anyone who had been confronted with Sirius' ***** would find themselves baffled at how he came across information in their mind. She hadn't spoken a word and yet he likely already knew her age, her mother's name, her name, her life story—Harry shrugged off the slimy feeling that came with thinking about the spell he had never really liked.

"You got all that from just staring at her?" Glenn raised an eyebrow, pushing away from the wall.

"It's a spell, to read minds." Harry piped up. "All Aurors, magical police men, have to know it."

"Wait, you can read our minds?" Glenn stepped back.

"Not something we tend to do to Muggles often," Sirius shook his head. "Scrambles your brains, hear it gives a killer headache too."

"Who else knows how to do this spell?" Rick frowned.

Sirius motioned to Harry. "Been teaching Harry. Draco already knows it due to his upbringing, he also knows the counter-spell. Harry's been having a bit of trouble with that one."

Harry shrugged. "Mind magics are awful."

"But useful." Sirius ran a hand through his hair.

"So," Harry stepped forward. "What's her name?"

"Sasha. Her names Sasha." Sirius murmured. "Harry, she was only following orders. She honestly, truly, really thought we were a threat."

"I don't care! She hurt Skye, she would have killed him, all of us, if I didn't throw up a shield. We killed all the others, we should kill her too!"

"Harry." Sirius' hands settled on his shoulders, heavy and firm. "Be careful with how you are thinking. Just, be careful."

Harry looked away, shamefully. The heat of tears warmed the edges of his eyes and he curled against Sirius. "I'm sorry, I just…"

He was hugged, and he didn't even care that it was in front of Rick, or Glenn—or even the sniper.

"The question remains," Glenn turned to the woman. "What are we going to do with her?"

"She knows our enemy." Rick crouched in front of her, "And if she has any desire to stay alive, she'll help us."

Harry watched as Draco wrapped the blanket around Hermione lying in the cot within their shambled together hospital wing. He had never expected that he would be seeing Draco in a medical role so easily, nor had he expected that it would the hospital wing that would be the most important area within their small home.

"My wards held." Draco murmured without looking to him. "This is the only area of C-Block not harmed."

"Your wards always hold, Draco." Harry crouched beside Hermione, brushing aside a strand of her tightly woven hair. "How is she?"

"Exhausted." Draco sat down with a groan. "So am I, but I'm running on pepper-ups. Can't leave Skye for longer than a few minutes."

Harry looked across the room, toward the bed where the man lay under a conjured blanket. He frowned, noticing the string of magic running between Draco and Skye. Now Hermione's exhaustion made sense, she was not exhausted from the fight, she was exhausted from the spell keeping Skye breathing as his punctured lung healed. It was the magical equivalent of life support, but it relied entirely upon the magical caster's ability to breathe for the wounded. Magic was a cruel mistress sometimes.

"Shit…Draco…that's dangerous magic."  
"Yeah, but Hermione's the one who thought of it." Draco waggled his brow. "We're taking shifts. Fred will here in a few minutes to take over from me, then I'll go and check on Daryl and give him his potions."

Harry shook his head. "I should do it."

"We need you in reserve, same as Luna. If something…Morgana forbid…goes wrong, and he makes a turn for the worst, we'll need you both. I've never made a regenerative potion, Harry. I could botch this up."

Harry squeezed Draco's hand.

"And I can't botch this up again. Ron was hard enough to deal with."

Leaning against Draco's shoulder Harry closed his eyes. He had been selfish, so very selfish, thinking he was the only one who had been suffering in losing Ron. Draco had tried so hard to save Ron. He wondered when Draco had last slept.

Something thumped, startling them both. Draco jerked with a small snort. Fred was standing at the entrance, holding a book. He smiled at them both, his freckled cheeks sunburnt from the summer heat outside.

"Don't fall asleep, Draco, until we switch the spell over."

Draco rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry."

"Come on, let's do this." Fred held out his wand. "You need to move about or you're going to collapse. George and I can take some shifts. Skye'll be in good hands."

Harry stood, leaving them both to the magical wand waving.

C-Block was unnaturally, quiet, or at least, the adults were. There was a sound he had not heard in a long time coming from the nearly cleared kitchen area. The sound of a newborn screaming. Harry bit his lips. This was not a good sign. Poking his head around the corner he watched as Beth nursed the newborn little girl, swaddled in a pink and blue blanket, dotted with ducks. She was doing a good job of it, but by the screeches coming from the newest member of their family, little was going to settle the girl. Daryl sat off to the side, glaring at Sam as she washed blood and guts off him in the vain attempt of something to do.

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering why she was not near Skye, sitting with her husband—but then again—sometimes some people could not face the idea of a loved one hurting, a loved one dying, and simply refused to accept the fact, and continued forward, and ignored the reality.

Perhaps Sam was like that. Perhaps she was trying to cope in her own way.

Harry headed for Beth and held out his hands. "Here, let me."

Beth almost melted in relief as she handed the newborn into his arms.

"She won't stop. Is she sick?"

"No…" Harry hummed low in his chest. "She's hungry." He rocked her, watching her blue eyes begin to flutter, and slowly, she curled into a tighter ball.

Beth breathed out. "How did you do that?"

"Magic." Harry chuckled, carefully settling the sleeping babe into the box lined with blankets. "I baby-sat a lot of screaming babies, they seemed to like me. I think babies can still sense magic."

"That's just cheating." Beth flicked his ear playfully.

"Yeah, it is." Harry shrugged. "But it works. She's going to need formula, and soon. We're going to have to go back to that store. Why didn't…why didn't I think of this. We were just there a few days ago!"

"It's not your fault, Harry." Sam pulled on a jacket. "It's not that far, right?"

"Where do you think you're going?" Daryl stood before Draco grabbed his shoulder and shoved him right back down. The exhausted looking blond dumped a kit of potions on the nearby table.

"Where do you think you're going? Sit! You broke your ankle, you dim-wit! I have to vanish it, and regrow it. It's going to take the whole damn day, you moron. Don't make it worse!"

Sam raised an eyebrow in what would have once been amusement, but her face was scared with too much grief. "I'm going to get Glenn. Harry come on. We don't have much time."

"Semuyeru!" Daryl snapped. "Don't you fucking dare! You're staying right here."

Sam turned sharply.

"My husband is lying in a makeshift ICU, Daryl, and he might not wake up. I am entitled to a little bit of fuck-it-all. Harry, let's go."

Yep, Harry concluded, Sam was one of those people who expressed grief by trying to do everything possible to ignore the situation at hand.

For a moment, Harry was not entirely sure who to obey. His magic was burning, telling him he had to stay with Daryl, the man was seething, but it was not anger toward either him or Sam—he could sense Daryl knew they were doing what they had to do—the anger was at himself, his inability to go with them and protect them.

Harry wet his lips. No. He had to believe that above all, if Daryl couldn't protect someone, then it was his job to do so.

"I'll make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"That is not very reassuring, Bambi, considering your track record."

"Hey, you're as much a moron as I am."

He received a middle-finger in reply. That was the end of that conversation. Harry scoffed and stormed off toward their cell. He snatched up his nap-snack, swinging it over his shoulder, and attached his knives. Luna's soft voice startled him enough for him to jump around, knife drawn.

"Luna…sorry…"

She smiled weakly. The deep bags under her eyes pressing into her cheeks, causing her to lose just some of her usual, bright glow.

"Harry…" she rushed into his arms suddenly, causing him to stagger back against the wall. He dropped his knife. She was trembling like a rag doll, sobbing into his shoulder, the dampness of her tears hot on his skin. Automatically his arms encased her.

"It's all right, Luna. We're all okay…"

"I was so scared."

"I know," he whispered. "I know. I'm so sorry."

"Terrible things are going to happen."

Harry tensed. This was not what he wanted to hear right now. Tugging her away, Harry gripped her cheeks, rubbing away the tears. He studied her grey eyes, wondering just what it was that she saw through them. What did the world look like to Luna Lovegood—what did he look like?

So carefully, as if he was holding a flower, he cradled her closer and dared to press his lips momentarily against hers. When he pulled away, her eyes were wide and tears sprinkled her cheeks like moon dust.

"I'll be back soon, I promise."

He left her, standing in the dim light of the cell, and he felt like the most horrible person for doing so.

Rick stood by the inner courtyard gate, Sirius beside him like a haunting shadow. Harry knew why his godfather was there, he was making sure Rick did not do anything stupid. Both men looked as exhausted as Harry felt. Predawn light shimmered in the sky, tinting the clouds a soft, pink hue. It would have been a perfect morning, Harry felt—the perfect morning for a baby's first real day—if it had not come at such a price to them all.

Glenn paused the land-rover as Rick approached, he leaned into the vehicle.

"I appreciate what you're doing."

Glenn nodded. "Keep everyone safe, Rick. We'll be back in a few hours."

Rick's eyes shifted toward Sam, her stoic features frozen in a gaze toward the sunrise.

"Sam…Hershel is good, so is Draco. Hershel saved my boy even without magic. He'll do what he can."

"Thanks Rick." Sam murmured. "I'm…I'm…sorry about…Lori…"

Rick reached for her hand, gripping it. He raised it to his cheek. "We'll find who did this, and we will end them."

Sam managed a nod. She urged Glenn, "Come on, we don't have much time."

They drove down through the outer-courtyard, through the smouldering fires of burning Walkers. Axel and Big Tiny tendered to the fires. They both waved and Harry waved back, trying to smile to them both. At the main gates, Remus and Maggie greeted them.

Carl was at the gate already, pulling it open. Harry felt his stomach twist at the sight of him, his mind running back to Lori and her last moments in her son's arms. He shook it off, trying to think of happier thoughts, less tainted by what had just transpired.

Remus tapped the edge of the land-rover as they rolled past.

"You all keep safe out there. We don't know what this new group is capable off."

"Don't worry," Glenn gave a thumbs up, "we're just going to the nearby town we did our last run in, looking for baby formula."

"Why din we think of that?" Maggie cursed.

"Yeah," Harry grouched. "My thoughts exactly."

"Well," Remus shrugged, "I doubt we expected Lori…well…this is an usual situation." He sighed. "Best of luck. Harry, don't leave Sam or Glenn's side."

"I know." Harry waved out the window as they drove out. The prison vanished from sight and he crumbled back into his seat, feeling weak in the stomach. Luna's words echoed in his mind. Something bad was going to happen—he was just not sure how much worse things could get.

Who was he kidding, he was Harry Potter, things could always get so much worse.


	15. Chapter 15

26/07/2017

 _Yes, I'm back. Complicated chaos getting internet working again, consisting of many phone calls...  
_ What matters, though, is that we figured it out in the end. We sort of had to, my little brother and mother couldn't access their uni-sites, so it was getting a little out of hand.

I just wanted to say how grateful I have been to you all for your messages of support. It's meant so much to me. I really hope I can return now and focus on bringing you something enjoyable to read in return. Thank you. I'm very, very honoured.

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 **Chapter 15**

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According to Blaise, House unity had never been a big thing at Hogwarts. So, the mere fact that the Slytherin Common Room was hosting Hufflepuffs was quite a feat. Blaise had mockingly sorted him and declared him to be a Hufflepuff, because of his loyalty, kindness, hard work and oddly enough, his tolerance—the one thing his parent's had lacked. When had he become such a person, a person who could be explained away by the traits of a Hogwarts House?

 _Hufflepuffs_ , Dudley had been told, had always been seen as the dullards of the school though. He was not quite sure how this was true—considering what he knew of Cedric Diggory and Susan Bones. Sure, Hannah Abbott was a bit loopy every now and then, but a girl had to be loopy to love Theodore Nott.

The two love birds—or snake and badger he supposed—were being all gooey eyed at each other on a nearby seat by the crackling fireplace.

Dudley shuffled uneasily in his own seat. Waiting on Blaise so they could start their little 'secret meeting' was just annoying. Then again, it was better to wait for Blaise to get clean than to sit next to him covered in Walker guts. That would have just been foul.

He buried his nose back into the book he was reading.

He had long become accustomed to the grandeur of the Slytherin Common Room, when once it had utterly overwhelmed him. The gorgeous rolls of green and grey fabrics, over the most pristine of marble pillars and a floor that never felt cold. There were hot rocks to sit on, as if those who lived therein really were snakes who drew to warmth, and fires burned in deep pits and on high, turning wagon wheels in a lofty ceiling that sometimes felt like it had no end.

Just because the Slytherin dorms were in the dungeons didn't mean they were dark and dank. No—by far—Dudley had decided, he liked them the best out of all the dorms he had visited. Sure, Harry would have felt at home in the comfortable, warm and almost run-down royal tower of the Gryffindors, and the Hufflepuffs had the most adorable cottage home, while the Ravenclaws had something akin to an old library inside a Viking hall, but for what all the other houses offered, Dudley loved the simplicity of the Slytherins. It was a bit weird, considering he was supposed to be a _Hufflepuff_. Maybe he was Slythpuff, was that even a thing?  
He was going to make it a thing.

The door to the dormitories opened. Blaise and Cedric stepped out, pulling on loose shirts over wet hair.

"Come on boys," Pansy called out, "leave them off for the ladies."

Blaise winked. "Return the gesture and we might be getting equal opportunity, love."

"You are no fun." Pansy scoffed.

"On the contrary, I was born for fun." Blaise hopped over the back of the couch Dudley was sitting on. "Scoot over Dudley, gotta warm up my toes."

Dudley rolled his eyes as Blaise stuck out his feet toward the fire, a long sigh escaping his lips. Cedric sat down, leaning back on the armrest, a content smile on his face as the warm glow of the flames turned his pale hair a deep red.

"We're all here, right?" Susan set a tray of snacks down on the center table, joining Cedric on the floor. She tucked herself under his arm, knitting against the curve of his shoulder.

Dudley tried not the flinch as Blaise's warm bare feet were suddenly in his lap, the Italian lounging back lazily, his exhaustion seeming to catch up with him.

"Piers isn't here, but he is staying with Professor Snape in the Infirmary." Dudley offered. "I can fill him in later."

"Sounds good." Blaise yawned. "So, what was your little adventure about? You and Professor Snape were all hush, hush."

"You going to remove your feet from my lap?"

"You want me to remove my glorious feet from your lap?" Blaise cocked an eyebrow. "And here I was bestowing a great honor upon you, Muggle."

"Yeah, shut your gob, pureblood prince." Dudley waved with a tosh, tosh motion.

Blaise curled his legs up, pouting. "You're supposed to be my hot water bottle."

"I should never have told you about those…" Dudley muttered. For a refined young lord, Blaise could act like a total kid when inside the Common Room. He was pretty sure it was because the Common Room, and their dorm in general, was the only true place Blaise—and he supposed Theo as well—found themselves free of their invisible shackles. He really shouldn't have been so harsh on them, he had finally broken free of his own shackles when the world went crazy. He was so glad his father wasn't around to see him flirting. Harry wouldn't have been the only one tossed out on the street and called a freak.

He reached for his backpack at his feet and carefully tugged out the knife, wrapped up in a dirty shirt that he had hidden it away in. He felt all the eyes on him, and it was weird, being the center of attention. He had gotten rather used to trying to make sure Harry stayed out of attention for just too long.

"So you all know that I have access to Harry's Vault in Gringotts right? Through the Inheritance ritual we did a few years back?"

He watched their nods.

Theo finally untangled himself from Hannah. "I'm still amazed it worked. No offense, but…well…being…" he waved a hand around, and Dudley chuckled at his friend inability to sum up his thoughts without sounding like a bigot was always amusing.

"To the Goblins, we're all just Human." Dudley offered. "At least, that was how it was explained to me."  
"Oh well, someone should have said that to the Dark Lord." Blaise scoffed. "Saved everyone a lot of trouble."

"Might have saved my mother." Theo collapsed back with a groan.

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "This got depressing really quickly."

"Dudley, go on, please…" Susan looked up, her eyes shining with what Dudley could tell were unbidden tears. Dudley breathed in deeply. He hated it, when all the young wizards and witches around him dredged up the politics of their world and how deeply it hurt them. It was so much more complicated than anyone ever told him, with more sides than a coin, it was more like an unsolvable rubrics cube and Harry had been the solution. He squeezed his hands around the dagger in his lap. Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived—what utter stupidity.

"Oh, Dudley." Blaise was clicking his fingers in front of him. "Wake up."

Dudley blinked. "So…sorry…"

"Off with the fairies there, hon?" Pansy was crouching in front of him, a concerned look on her face, which oddly enough, always made her look beautiful and kind. It was like her true self came out when she was truly worried about someone, and all her masks just melted away, showing her clear blue eyes behind her folds of black hair. She felt his forehead and his cheeks heated up at her touch. Her wand moved in the formation of a diagnostic spell. She frowned.

"He's fine, just a slight fever, he might have caught it when he was out and about."

"Damn." Blaise threw blankets around his shoulders. "Should have noticed earlier. Sorry Dudley."

"Guys, I'm fine, sorry, I was just thinking about Harry. I space out when that happens."

"We know. Dumbledore's an idiot. Blood Magic isn't used for shits and giggles. However, you know you're supposed to let us know when you're not feeling well." Pansy sighed. "Susan, Pepper-Up potions are in the top drawer."

"Thanks!" Susan's voice called out and Dudley watched as she hopped back into the Common Room, carrying a potion bottle from Professor Snape's office. It was handed over, and he was forced to drink it, despite how much he protested that he was fine, and he hated the taste. It made no difference, there was no arguing with Pansy and Blaise when they got their parent shoes on.

They all had to wait, annoyingly, while he drank the Pepper-Up. Small talk between Cedric and Theo dominated their circle for a while, small talk about the Walkers that kept trying to get in through the wards.

Dudley looked to Blaise, who hadn't stopped staring at him the entire time, as if he was somehow going to faint like a damsel. "I'm fine now, I can talk."

"Righty-oh then." Blaise clapped his hands. "Tell us all what made you, Professor Snape and the Weasley Dragon head off in the danger zone?"

Dudley breathed in deeply. This was it.

"Right, well," he leant forward and unrolled the dirty torn shirt from around the dagger, setting it gently on the table in the center of their small circle. "I went to fetch this from the Potter Family Vault."

"It's a dagger." Cedric leant his chin on the table surface, seemingly unimpressed. "I mean, it's a pretty dagger, but it's just a dagger."

Dudley shook his head. "This is not just a dagger, Cedric, this is an Assassin's Blade. Mentioned in the texts of Aldwin J. Potter ' _A Wizard's Way of Murder_.'"  
Pansy spat out the drink she had halfway gulped down. " _Morgana_ …what…Dudley…what?"

Dudley bent over again, pulling out the book he had stashed away in his bag. He threw it at her. "Found it in the Restricted Section on one of my many adventures. There is a whole section there by the Potter Family, tucked away, under the 'P' section."

"But this is borderline Dark, no…" Pansy shook her head as she flicked through the book, her brow furrowing, "this is _Dark_. I had no idea the Potter's aligned themselves that way."

"Well, they're technically Grey." Dudley wobbled a hand around. "From what I can gather about your affiliation magics, but being Grey means they can dabble either direction, they're not restricted so much, I think. Am I right?"

Theo hummed in the back of his throat. "I suppose. Dark, Light, Grey is a very…convoluted idea. Say, Dumbledore is a Light Wizard, but the intent in which he uses Magic is could very easily be considered Dark. Do you…understand?" Theo held out both his hands. "Magic originates from the same place within us, but our intents can be polluted. Our minds are still our greatest weapons, not our wands."

Dudley slowly nodded. Theo leant back, tapping the tip of his nose. "Which is why, as a Muggle, you're still able to absorb magic through your mind. It's why we let you read and learn, Dudley. Knowledge is a powerful tool. Which is obvious right now…you found something by reading a book."

Blaise had curled over the gap between their couches and was studying the current book in question with Pansy. His eyebrows were pinched together. It was the look he gave when he was trying to read without his glasses, which was most of the time he was reading—idiot hated his reading glasses, despite how well they framed his face.

Dudley tugged on a lock of hair, hiding behind his growing fridge as Blaise turned sharply toward him.

"How did you find this, Dudley?"

"I told you, I was in the Restricted Section." Dudley shrugged.

"Dudley, this is a really Dark book. There are spells on it that could kill you for opening it."

Pansy dropped it instantly. " _What_?"

Blaise picked it up. "It's an Assassin's Manuel. My Mother had one, heck, I have one."

Cedric coughed. "Could have gone my whole life not knowing that…"

"It likely recognized him as Potter Blood." Theo offered. "The ritual practically made him a Potter, just without magic."

"Sure," Blaise kept that annoying frown on his face, "but that doesn't explain how he opened a magical book without magic."

"Come on," Susan laughed, "this is Harry Potter's blood we're talking about."

Blaise rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I suppose so." He waved the book around. "Don't let this get into anyone's hands, Dudley."

"I'm not stupid." Dudley huffed.

He was clopped over the head with the book as Blaise folded up against him. Slytherins. Honestly, Slytherins were terrifying. "So you figured this…dagger…was in the Vault?"

"Oh, it said it was in the Vault." Dudley snatched the book back from Blaise. "It also said what the dagger was for and I knew it could help us."

"So, what does it do?" Hannah inched forward on her seat. "Gosh, Dudley, don't keep us all in suspense here?"

"It's a portkey, of sorts. It has no international barriers what-so-ever. From what I can tell, the Potter Family were Assassins, though perhaps a better word would be 'Bounty Hunters' for Wizards, so they hunted down, well…I suppose, Wizards that went rouge. This dagger allowed them to capture the wizards and portkey those wizards to set locations anywhere in the world."

"Into prisons." Cedric murmured.

"Into Azkaban." Theo whispered. "Wow. A portkey into Azkaban."

"And a portkey out." Dudley offered. "They could also use it as an escape. Aldwin writes about several of his adventures in which he was hired to infiltrate Muggle Camps and free the people inside."

"Muggle Camps?" Susan looked up at him in confusion.

"Yeah," Dudley turned the book around in his hands. "I think Aldwin is Harry's great, great grandfather. This is World War Two. He's talking about Concentration Camps and Hilter."

He stared around the Common Room. "You guys don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" He sighed. "Didn't Muggle Studies cover _any_ of this? This is really _important_ history."

"Muggle Studies…no…" Theo laughed. "Muggle Studies taught nothing but garbage."

Dudley groaned. "Okay, well, it doesn't matter for now. What matters is that this dagger can pretty much be used to find Harry and the others, and to get us out of Hogwarts."

"It can find Harry?" Hannah clapped her hands. "Really?"

"Yeah," Dudley nodded. "Well, if he's still alive. If I've read the instructions correctly, due to the blood that's in the vial on the top…see the vial there." He pointed to what had looked like a red gem on the top. "That blood is Potter Blood, it's currently programmed—for lack of a better word—to take us to a Potter, and since I'm the Potter welding it, it will take us to the Potter at the other end of the destination."

"So we just have to hope that's Harry." Blaise folded his hands together in a steeple. "Interesting…"

"I took the idea to Professor Snape when I read about it in Aldwin's Book and he figured it was a good escape plan. Considering…well…the wards."

"Wait, you know about the wards?" Blaise sat up, looking suspiciously around the room.

"Honestly, Blaise, who doesn't know about the wards." Pansy scoffed.

Cedric nodded. "They're getting weaker, you can feel, every day, when you walk across the floor, when you bump into the walls, when you sleep in your bed. Hogwarts is dying."

"Damn it! It's worse than I thought." Blaise flopped back and Dudley ducked away from his legs as the Slytherin waved them in the air, having a small patty before righting himself and sweeping back his hair.

"Dumbledore is an idiot." Blaise hissed out. "I wish I could just gut the old-codger."

"Why don't you?" Theo offered. "You could do it."

"He's tied himself to the wards," Blaise spat out. "Even if I went at him, it wouldn't work. He's tried to make Hogwarts a Horcrux, and she is rejecting him."

The Common Room felt as though it dropped in temperature at the mention of the word Horcrux. Dudley shivered, glancing at the fires, watching them dance against a wind that blustered up from nowhere.

"Horcrux," Cedric murmured. "The dead start walking and myths become reality."

"Horcruxes aren't myth," Theo raised an eyebrow, "the study of them has just been forbidden. My Father told me that there was once a book on the subject 'Secrets of the Darkest Art' here at Hogwarts, but I've never been able to find it."

Hannah frowned, pulling away from Theo slightly. "You'd actually study the subject?"

"Sure." Theo shrugged. "Same reason I study all Dark Arts. So I know how to defend against them. Horcruxes are Soul Magic," he poked Hannah in the nose, "and you don't mess with your soul."

Blaise grumbled. "Someone tell that to Dumbledore."

"You would actually kill the Headmaster?" Susan whispered, her eyes wide as she stared up at Blaise.

"If it meant protecting all of you, I'd kill anyone. It's one of the few skills I have. I can at least use it well in this shitty world."

Dudley looked away, back at the dagger, sitting innocently upon the table. He wished it looked less important, more ordinary, without the jewels that had been pasted all over the handle. Somewhere under it all, he was sure was just an ordinary knife that a pot-maker had once used for crafting pots or something. He squeezed shut his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead. Thinking of Harry again, making his head go fuzzy. The blood magic of protection that had once been cast on the house at Privet Drive made his bones ache, and his head thud, now that Harry was gone—so far away—gone. Their home might have been rumble and dust now, but that didn't mean the wards had fallen, it didn't mean the blood magic had faded. He and his mother were still branded with an invisible Harry Potter sized tattoo all over their skin, linking them to wherever his cousin was. He doubted his mother noticed anymore, no—he was positive she refused to accept it, and flat out rejected it and therefore, the whole force of the magic fell on him.

How amusing that he was the protection of Harry Potter, and he was not even around to protect his cousin anymore.

"Dudley…you're spacing out again…"

Blaise's hand settled on his shoulder and Dudley looked his way. Those kind brown eyes hid the ruthlessness he knew the Slytherin contained. He had just been discussing how easily it would be to kill someone—just like Aldwin conferred the ease of it in his book. Assassins—it made his skin crawl.

Why had he never noticed how impressively strong that grip was. It was as if he had refused to accept that Blaise was a killer. How stupid had he been. Of course Blaise was something more than just a wizard. Everyone in the room around him should have been something more, the way they were all built—he was just the muggle, the silly little boy who played video games all day. These boys and girls lived in a world that had been at war—an invisible war—but war none-the-less.

"Don't worry Dudley. We'll look after you." Blaise assured. "I promise."

"Yep," Hannah popped her lips. "After all, you're our pet-Muggle…" She paused and frowned. "Oh, did I say that out loud."

Theo started laughing, so much that he fell backward, and started snorting.

Cedric looked incredibly putout, but Dudley could only smile at the sight of his friends and their laughter.

"You see," Hannah punched Theo, still on the floor, lost in his hystics. "This is what happens when I date a Slytherin, you've ruined me."

"Oh, in more ways than one, love."

Susan whipped out her wand. "Repeat that, Theodore Nott, I dare you."

Hannah clambered over Theo in a protective manner. "No, no hexes Susan, I actually want to have children with this guy. Please don't chop his balls off."

"Sometimes I wonder about my sanity." Dudley sighed, looking toward Blaise.

"I think I lost mine a long time ago, when I started thinking it was a good thing to dead started walking." Blaise wiped back his hair. "Who would have thought the end of the world as we knew it would be the start of our freedom."

"Blaise…do you think there are more things, like this dagger?" Dudley frowned at the dagger.

Blaise nodded against the knee, tucked under his chin, only half interested in watching Cedric and Susan's attempts at hexing Theo. "Well. My mother mentioned something like them to me in our training sessions, but I never thought I'd ever get to see one. I know she kept this necklace that she was going to give to me, but…alas…" He shrugged, causing his shirt to slid off his shoulder, "I will never know what it was now, but it is possible it was something akin to your dagger. My family has been Assassins for generations, wouldn't surprise me if we had an heirloom like it."

He sighed. "However, in saying that, the bloodlines of the Ancient families has been diluted and lost to history. It would be very difficult to figure out, more so now, who is who and who owns what. Honestly…I foresee us, if we survive this, having to establish entirely new bloodlines."

"You still believe in pureblood concepts?" Dudley murmured.

"I believe in bloodlines," Blaise bent forward, plucking the dagger off the table. He twirled it around with the ease and grace. "It is, after all, the Potter bloodline that has the magic in it that is allowing you to be here. When Harry Potter, one of the strongest wizards of this age, blood-adopted you, he made you kin. You're part of this world now Dudley. Magic or no magic."

Dudley bare caught the movement Blaise made. A stray hex caught the corner of his eye, the blue whizzing in his direction. He froze. Blaise landed on him, sending them both over the back of the couch and on to the warm floor. It took a moment for him to realize that Blaise had gripped his head to his chest, stopping it from cracking onto the floor in their fall. Something he would never had thought to do in such a situation. It did make for an awkward untangling, not that Blaise seemed to even notice as he stood, seeming to crackle with magic as he spun on his heels, wand out. The couch slammed to one side.

Dudley saw blood, dribbling down from Blaise's side. There was already a pool forming around his ankles. His pants were soaked, but he still stood, absolute fury burning through him.

"Who threw that? It couldn't have been the girls, that was a dark curse."

Susan's face went red. "Hey, we know—"

"Theo!"

"You think I would be that stupid." Theo narrowed his eyes, his attention shifting to the door. It was slightly ajar. "Shit." He swore. "Blaise."

"I'm on it." Blaise moved with such poise and swiftness that Dudley barely saw him. His eyes though, just remained on the pool of blood.

Susan was suddenly at his side, shaking his shoulders.

"Dudley…Dudley! Pansy, he's hurt."

His shirt was being ripped off, and not in a way he had ever wanted it to be ripped off by a girl as Pansy forced his arms back from his side.

"Damn, the curse went right through Blaise. Theo! Do you know the counter?"

Dudley had never seen Theo's face so grey and drawn, he looked older, as if the grey of his hair suddenly aged him beyond his years. He clutched his wand between his teeth as he knelt and Dudley watched as he drew a series of runes across the floor in blood—his blood, Dudley realized, blood that was not Blaise's, but blood that was coming from a wound in his own side. Dudley blinked. Oh, so that was why his body was feeling so cold.

"Susan…am I dying?"

Susan held his head, brushing at his hair. "Shhh, it's okay. Theo is really good at this. It's okay."

Through half lidded eyes, Dudley watched as Theo moved his bloodied hands in a succession of shapes, each movement made the wound in his side burn even more, until he was sobbing into Susan's side. Theo collapsed back, spitting out blood in a rasping cough. He landed on his trembling elbows.

"Okay, curse countered." Theo wiped away sweat. "You can heal the wound Pansy. Hannah, I need water."

Pansy had taken over, her wand flicking back and worth. Dudley felt skin pulling, a strange knitting sensation running up his side, but it was nothing compared to what the pain had been like before. He ran his fingers over the area where the wound had been.

"It's gone…"

"It's magic." Pansy kissed his forehead. "Thank goodness."

Dudley wiped away his tears. Theo was gulping down mouthfuls of water from a cup, most of it ending up down his sweater, but he didn't seem to be bothered by that. He cast the glass away, collapsing back against the edge of a chair, raking a trembling hand through his hair. Dudley gulped, he looked so pale.

"Th…Thanks…Theo."

Theo winked. "Don't sweat it. Someone's got to do the dirty work around here."

The door suddenly slammed open and Blaise came through in a whirlwind, almost carrying a young man by the skin of his neck. Dudley winced as Blaise flung the far larger teen onto the floor, pinning him under a knee.

"You almost killed my Muggle!" Blaise's fist met the teens face in a crunch. No magic—there was no need for magic—when Blaise was this furious. His own wound didn't even seem to register with him as he pummeled his victim with vicious strikes. Cedric and Pansy dragged him back, and Theo finally restrained the foreign youth with a wave of his wand. Vines twisted around the wiggling young man. Theo stepped over him, leering.

"Why, hello Goyle. It has been awhile. I am guessing you used the secret tunnel."

Blood was spat out, along with a tooth. "Nott. Your father sends his regards."

"So lovely to know the old man lives." Theo sneered, bending down, tapping his wand on the top of Goyle's nose. "Now be a good boy, and just lie there awhile. If you move and inch, I swear I will make Cruciatus look innocent."

Theo threw Susan a glance. "Watch him."

She nodded.

Theo was suddenly on Blaise, pinned under Cedric's knee.

"Shit. Shit!" Theo shoved Cedric aside. "Shit, Blaise, shit! You idiot!"

Dudley winced as Theo's fist made contact with Blaise's cheek. "Damnit, Damnit! The one time you're not wearing your armor, the one bloody, damned time!"

Blaise coughed out blood. "Well…it's not like…I expected…to…to…be attacked in my own Common Room."

"Always expect it!" Theo trembled as he applied the counter curse, before swearing loudly. "Why isn't this working. What's wrong?" His wand coiled around, and his eyes widened. "He hit you with something else, Blaise, what did he hit you with? Shit, shit! This is bad."

Blaise smiled. It was that horrible smile, Dudley curled back. He loathed the smile, it was a smile Blaise wore when he was being fake, trying to hold in panic and worry. A hand was searching for his and he felt Blaise grip his wrist before sliding down to hold his hand in a vice grasp for support.

"I'm sorry, Theo."

"Shit, Blaise." Theo curled up against Blaise's chest, clutching at his shirt. "Shit." Theo's voice cracked. "Bloody French!"

Blaise's free hand rested with a limp flop over Theo's head. "You can have my armor—"

"I don't want your armor," Theo's muffled voice broke out, "I want my best friend."

"No…" Dudley choked. "No, he's…" He couldn't die. This was Blaise—this was his Blaise—he hadn't even had a chance. Dudley bit his lips. "Blaise you can't leave me…I…I haven't…"

Blaise smiled that horrible, tender smile, that disgusting mask of his, that was supposed to assure everyone around them that everything was fine. It didn't work, not when blood was bubbling out of his mouth.

"Magic can save you!" Dudley clutched at his shoulders. "Magic can do anything. Guys! Guys, save him."

Theo was silent. So was Cedric.

"Someone go and get Bill, or Professor McGonagall! Professor Snape, the Healer!"

Blaise grabbed his cheeks suddenly in a bloodied hand, pulling him back around. "It won't matter. It's a torture curse…Dudley…"

"But, but Theo…saved me?"

"Different one. Nutter hit me after that. I got sloppy."

Dudley wanted to scream, a part of him wanted so much to just rant, to be a child again and refuse the reality around him, but it was so pathetic that he was even thinking of doing so when Blaise was looking at him with such clarity and trust. He had no idea what it was that Blaise saw in him, and he wished he could be the man Blaise kept insisting he was.

"We need you," Dudley whispered, "I need you."

Blaise closed his eyes. Was it from pain, Dudley wondered, just how much pain was he in? Was Theo doing something to help it?

"Wait…wait…wait!" Dudley grabbed for Theo's hand. "You said French, is it a French curse?"

Theo blinked a few times at the hand that held him fast. "Ye…yes…from the French Revolution, but I don't see why it matters—"

Dudley shouted. "Dobby!"

A crack sounded nearby. The tiny House Elf stood to one side, wearily surveying the room before quickly scrambling to Dudley's side. His large, yellow eyes took in the scene and he tugged on Dudley's pants.

"I be here. What cans Dobby do for Master-Harry's-Muggle?"

He didn't even bother asking Dobby to just call him Dudley, or Ley—or anything but Master-Harry's-Muggle.

"Can you find Fleur and bring her here, please?"

Dobby nodded and vanished with another crack.

The look of hope on Theo's face said it all. They needed no words said between them, all they needed was the very flickering ember of possibility that Blaise could be saved.

"The French Veela? You know the Veela?" Cedric whispered in awe. "How do you know the French Veela?"

Dudley shivered at the gooey tone in his friend's voice. There was a reason why Fleur avoided most of the young men in Hogwarts, and she had explained it to him over a hot cup of tea in a dark corner of the library. Despite the age gap—he was a year older than her little sister—he found her soothing company, as refined as Blaise was on his good days. She had seen more of the magical world too, before the pandemic broke out, and she loved telling him stories about how beautiful it all was. Clutching Blaise's hand tighter Dudley bent his forehead against the bloodied knuckles.

"You're an idiot."

Blaise murmured back. "Thanks. I know I'm gorgeous. I'm so happy you finally see it too."

"How did you get all of that out of 'you're an idiot?'"

"I read between the lines…lies…I mean lies." Blaise coughed blood.

Theo reached out, wiping the liquid away. Dudley watched the tenderness in which he did so, wishing he had the guts to be just as tender. He could only hold the hand in his grasp tighter, willing his life into Blaise's. That suave smile never left the stupid wizard's lips, it just kept hanging there, like a promise, with brown eyes burrowing into him. It was only the sound of Dobby popping back into the Common Room and Fleur's loud shout of his name that tore him away from Blaise's gazes.

Dudley shuffled to his feet, trying to ignore the blood that coated his arms.

"Fleur!"

"Ley! What haz happened?"

"It's a bit complicated, but Blaise got hit with this curse that Theo says is from the French Revolution, he doesn't know the counter to it, I thought…maybe…you do?"

Fleur's eyes widened. She stormed over, her skin charging like electricity. "Move, move!" She tossed, tossed Theo to one side with a delicate wave of her hand.

Her beautiful features twisted with disgust, but he could tell she was focusing behind the revolt. Blaise's muscles tensed and the hand wrapped around his clutched so tight his fingers began to go numb. Then gradually, as if the pain was being eased away, the agony behind Blaise's fake smile crumbled away. His head knocked back onto the floor with a limp thud. Fleur sat back in a crouch, wedging her wand back into her hair.

"Their ze go. Ze are lucky I know zat one, our Special Forces taught it to me." She looked back to Theo, "Encase it 'az ever used on my father."

Theo ran a trembling hand through his hair. Blood tinged the grey fringe, and smudged his forehead. "Hadn't quite made it through all the French counter curses yet."

She shook her head. "A lot of torture magic came out of war. Have ze covered ze Spanish Inquisition?"

Theo laughed weakly. "Oh, my father read those to me when I was a kid. Bedtime stories. Speaking of which, now that that crisis is over…what are we going to do with…him?" Theo turned sharply, glaring across at Goyle.

Blaise weakly tried to sit up. Dudley wanted to protest, but found his lips were dry, and refused to move. All energy had just seemed to seep out of him. He had been so scared—in that moment, he had thought he would not be strong enough.

Blaise's hand began to shift out of his and he panicked, grabbing for it again. The moment he made contact with the Wizard's skin, heat flooded through his cold limbs. He curled up, seeking the heat, like a moth to flame.

Blaise's hands wiped aside the salty residue of his tears. " _Merlin_ , Dudley…I'm fine, I promise."

"I…I know…I just…" Dudley breathed out unsteadily.

Blaise pressed their foreheads together.

"Blaise…" Dudley looked away. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"I'm just a fat, ugly Muggle."

"Not so fat anymore." Blaise poked him playfully. "And hardly ugly Dudley. I mean, well, compared to me, everyone is ugly, but I'm just a god."

Dudley snorted, a small smile touching cheeks. Blaise's hand slid under his chin. "You're my Muggle. That's what matters."

Blaise yelped suddenly as a book whacked him firmly over the head.

"Fleur!" Dudley spluttered in horror. Blaise clutched at his skull as the Veela stood over them, her eyes could have been made from ice as surveyed the scene.

"Are ze corrupting him, Arachne? Heh? I know thz stinkz of your webz!"

"No, I'm not, I swear."

"Oh, really? I can smell your zcent all over this place." She scoffed. "Ze are the worst."

"This is my Common Room. It's my nest. These are my friends. Mine." Blaise hissed slightly before flashing a charming smile. "Come, come, cousin. I do have to survive somehow, and if I'm not killing, I'm loving."

Her eyes rolled. "Dudley, be careful, his kind are dangerous…" her chest heaved, "but loyal, I will give ze that."

"Well, we males are, can't say the same for the females." Blaise made a miffed shrugging motion.  
Fleur dusted at her dress, as if trying to get rid of something invisible. She turned away, muttering under her breath. Dudley scrambled to his feet, aiding Blaise upright.

"What's an Arachne?"

Blaise sniffed. "Don't worry about it. We've got bigger problems."

Their attention shifted to the tied up young man still struggling on the floor. Goyle—Dudley frowned—he had read that name somewhere before. Yep. Cedric had slept in a bed that had belonged to a Gregory Goyle whenever he bunked over in their dorm. If what Blaise and Theo said about him was true, this was the kind of Slytherin who wanted him dead for simply existing.

"What are we going to do with him?" Hannah clutched Theo's arm tightly.

"I say we kill him." Susan's whisper caused Dudley to freeze. Her eyes had gone stone cold. "No one will know."

"Susan!" Hannah gasped.

"What? He's a Death Eater."

"And what if Theo was a Death Eater—"

"We've had this argument before, Hannah." Susan hissed.

Theo groaned, holding a hand to his head. "Please don't tell me that. I really, really don't need to know this right now, girls."

"Zeath Eater ziz, Zeath Eater zat…" Fleur pinched the bridge of her nose, "She is right. Kill him and be done with zit."

Dudley wet his lips. "Maybe we should just tell Professor Snape."

"Bad idea." Cedric shook his head. "The moment we take this situation out of this dorm room it will become public knowledge, Dumbledore will then know about it."

"So, we go and get Professor Snape and bring him back here. Or we ask Dudley's House Elf to get him."

"Just kill him and dump his body in the lake." Susan turned away.

"Yes, yes, we know what you want Susan." Blaise rolled his eyes. "And as gorgeous as I think you are right now and how lovely your mind works, killing someone and covering it up is never _that_ easy."

Dudley frowned. "It always was on television…"

"Can we torture him first?" Theo piped up.

Hannah whacked him firmly over the head. "No!"

"Just a bit."

"No!"

"We might have to." Cedric's brow furrowed under his curled ringlets of hair. "How else will we get him to tell us what he was doing here? He could have done anything…" Cedric's eyes widened. "What if he let Walker's in!"

Theo twirled his wand. "Oh, would you look at that." He sneered, rounding on Goyle, "The game just changed."

And Dudley knew it had. Suddenly all the Magical's around him were focused on one thing; information.

"Do I get to torture him now?" Theo stepped forward, a sadistic grin touching his cheeks.

This time Hannah did not stall him.

"Find out what he knows," Cedric turned away, "I'm going to get Professor Snap and Bill. We need to know if there is a breach in the wards."


	16. Chapter 16

_26/07/2017_

 _Hey everyone! So, I'm going to repeat this again here, because I don't know if alerts are issued for updated chapters...  
But hey, look, I'm back! Yup, my father and I finally managed to get the internet working, after many, many phone calls. My father has had a few weeks home from work (he works interstate) and has thus, been able to devote some time to the issue. While I could ring, the company who looks after the internet refused to work with me as I...obviously...was not my father, and therefore did not have permission to do anything. _  
_The whole thing became more of a problem after both my little brother and mother realised they couldn't access their university websites - so - that was apparently more important than my little fandom sites. ^_^;;  
Anyway, we did it, we fixed it!_

 _I just really, really want to say thank you, so very much for all your support. I've returned to so many messages. Thank you all. It means so much to me to know some enjoyment comes from this story. I hope, now that this is all sorted, I can return to bringing you a story you can enjoy reading. Sorry for all the trouble, and thanks for sticking with me. It really means a lot.  
Thank you. ^_^ _

_Enjoy the update._

 _Oh, and a small warning for this chapter. If mentions of assault, rape etc. those sorts of things aren't your cup of tea, skip over a tiny section in this chapter (it should be pretty obvious, but I'll tag it with ****) - if you've watched the episode of The Walking Dead in which this episode comes from it should be even more obvious pretty quickly. I just wanted to make sure no one gets upset. I prefer to just...suggest something happening, rather than spell it out, but still, it's awful._

 _With that said...  
Ever onward! _

_Thanks again!_

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 **Chapter 16**

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Neville patiently stirred the pot on the stove. On one gas burner was a potion, on the other was the morning oatmeal. Snape would have been furious with him, seeing him mix his work station in such a manner—but—Professor Snape was not here, was he?

Neville smiled, despite the glum mood of the morning. At least there was a bright side to his current life; no Professor Snape.

A chair creaked behind him and he glanced around. Merle sat at the small kitchen table, cleaning a gun, rather expertly, despite only having one hand. His hook was currently on the table, not in use. The potion he was making, Neville hoped, would relieve some of the pain the man still had from the severed limb. In part, he was doing it to take his mind off the morning ahead. Michonne had left some time during the night. He wondered just how far she was going to make it before the alarm would be sounded by Andrea. Her presence was noticed the moment she emerged from the corridor into the poky kitchen, he could just smell the Governor all over her, and it sickened him. He almost stabbed the knife he had been using to cut up potion ingredients right into the chopping board.

 _She makes her own choices, Neville._ He repeated in his mind. _She's a grown woman. She can do want she wants. She makes her own choices…_

"Neville. You're making breakfast. Well, this is a change. Where is Michonne?"

Neville turned away from her before his face betrayed his utmost disgust. "Not that you would care, but she left, sometime in the night."

"What!" Andrea shot out of her chair, it clattered backward, toppling over. Neville winced. "Neville! How could you let her—"

Now he turned, he could feel the heat of growing irritation flushing his cheeks, "You think I let her? You think I had any choice in what Michonne does, or in what you do? May I remind you, Andrea, I am a fifteen-year-old boy. You are both the adults here!" He slammed the pot of porridge down on the table. "You're off busy snogging the Governor, and Michonne loathes it here, and runs away…what about me? Have you even given a single thought about me? What I want?"

Andrea blinked. She covered her mouth, shaking her head, before facing him. "How dare you Neville, I'm doing this for you."

"You're sleeping with the Governor for me? Really? That's total bull."

He had not expected the slap to the face, but the force of it made his head turn and his skin burn. Andrea held back a sharp sob as she snatched back her hand, holding it to her chest. He thought she was going to apologise, but the words that tumbled out of her mouth felt forced, as if she was trying to convince herself of their worth.

"These people can help us, Neville. What the Governor has established here is a stable place, with walls and protection. We won't ever have to be outside, alone, and scared…ever again. The Governor keeps his people safe."

Neville sat himself down and spooned his porridge into a bowl. "I know you went through a lot, Andrea. I know you feel like your group abandoned you…but…Michonne and I, we would never have done that."

"She's gone now, though, hasn't she?" Andrea bitterly sniped out.

Neville gripped the edges of the table. "Because you're being selfish. We're a family, and families look out for each other."

She turned sharply for the door. "When did we ever say we were family, Neville."

He looked up, eyes wide. His hand went straight for his new wand in the pocket of his pants. He flinched before he could draw it, reminding himself of Lucius-damned-Malfoy.

"I thought," he levelled his tone, "we were."

Andrea headed for the open door. "I think I'll have breakfast elsewhere."

He waited, his heart racing in his chest, as her footsteps carried on down the passage, and the front door opened and slammed shut.

She was gone. Likely back to the Governor. Would she instantly begin complaining about Michonne? Neville bit his lips. He really hoped Michonne had enough time to get as far away as possible before the Governor sent people after her. Which he would, Merle had been pretty darn set on that fact.

"What has he done to her." Neville sagged back into his seat. "It's like she's under a spell."

"Well, women are weird, they change for the men they think they like." Merle offered his great wisdom.

"Is that from experience?" Neville offered.

"Maybe." Merle shrugged.

Sighing Neville returned to his bland oatmeal. His gaze lingered on the kitchen window. How he envied Michonne, making a break for freedom. She would be back, he knew she would be, but he just wanted to be out of this place with these weird people and most of all—away from Lucius Malfoy.

Harry's skin felt ablaze. Every bump in the road sent his nerves racing, like hot-iron pikes were jamming into his flesh, despite the cushioning of the landrover's back seat. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, already soaked with sweat, and tried to focus Luna; the way she perfectly fit into his arms and curled into his neck. The scent that reminded him of the Forbidden Forest, coating every inch of her. If he could just hold onto the vision of her for a little longer then maybe everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours would fade away.

He breathed out. It was no use.  
What had happened was burned into his mind, now a waking nightmare. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to blot out the picture of Lori's smiling face as he had uttered the unforgiveable curse at her.

"You alright there, Harry?"  
He jerked upright, facing Sam. They had pulled to a stop in the small town and he hadn't even noticed. Harry heard himself laugh at the stupidity of the question coming from Sam. He should have been the one asking her if she was alright.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't make any further comment, to which he was grateful. Instead, she popped open her door and exited the landrover. Harry followed, landing on the rough gravel. The world outside seemed serine, like it was just any other summer day. His teeth grit together. It wasn't any other summer day though, it was another forsaken summer day after the end of the world.

"Right, we want baby formula, and all that…food stuff…I guess." Sam finished checking her weapons belt.

"Even if we can just find one tub." Harry offered as he jogged up beside her. "I can figure out the duplication spell on it."

"You really want to try that on baby formula. I mean, it's fine for us," Glenn rounded up on them, shot gun in hand, "we can cope with the side-effects, but the baby?"

Harry frowned. Glenn was right. He was not a master at transfiguration, and he was utterly winging the duplication spell he had made-up, not even knowing if it was safe to use on perishable foods. For all he knew, he was killing everyone with radiation or something totally crazy like that. He sighed.

"Okay, I see your point."

"This could have been solved if you had Skye had a baby at the same time." Glenn called out from ahead.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh, gee, I'm so sorry for not sinking up perfectly so I could be a wet-nurse. Nice to know that's what you think of me, Glenn."

"Just pointing it out."

"Yeah, well, point your smart mouth someplace else." Sam stomped off, but Harry noted the small smile on her lips and ran after her, in the direction of the pharmacy, likely their best stab for anything remotely baby-related. After all, that was where all the baby-clothes had come from.

It took some time sorting through the remaining junk, but eventually they found what they had come for, much to Harry's relief. A couple of canisters of baby-formula, stashed away deep in the sore room of the pharmacy. The little box of pre-made baby food, and teething aids, were just an added bonus that drew the biggest smile from Sam. He carried one of the baskets, and Sam carried the other while Glenn took point.

"How did people before modern times ever survive…" Harry grumbled, feeling sweat leak down his neck. "How do Muggles survive without Magic?"

Glenn started laughing. "That's what you're thinking about."

"Well, yeah?" He rested his basket on the back of the landrover. "Manuel labour is so overrated—"

The punch took him by surprise. He was sent sprawling backward, into the dirt. His skin scrapped on asphalt. He heard Sam's cry, and it sent a sharp reaction through his chest, like a spear. He crawled up, grabbing for the nearest object, a tire-iron. Swinging it, Harry landed a blow against the nearest man's leg. A cry sounded before he was struck in the head with a well-aimed kick.

"Fucking kid!"

Harry lashed out again. "Get off her!" He channelled a stupefy through his hand.

The man who had hit him stumbled backwards a few paces, allowing him just enough time to gauge the situation. Three men—no—four—he was sure it was four—had them pinned down. How, by Merlin, had he not sensed their auras?  
No, that didn't matter now, he had to get Sam out of here.

He pulled his wand from his belt, aiming it at the nearest enemy. The killing curse came between his lips, and he was sure it would have hit, had he not found himself sprawled out on the ground, bleeding from lashes down his arms. He had not expected a spell, least of all the cutting curse, to come at him from behind. He had not been watching his back.

Sirius would be furious with him for such a mistake.

Dirt crunched under heavy boots as a darkened figured approached him. Pain flared through his hand and Harry slowly looked up Lucius Malfoy stepping painfully his hand that was inches away from his wand. The manic grin on the once immaculate face of the lord looked more akin to a madman, with the glint behind his eyes feral.

"Harry Potter," he spat the name out.

"I know my name, Malfoy." Harry snatched his hand back, ignoring the bloodied fingers. He swung his legs around, knocking his wand further away—away from a man who would, indeed, snap it if he got his hands on it. He somersaulted, landing on his feet, and windlessly summoned a nearby door off its hinges, splitting the wood with a cutting hex. It ripped through the nearest man standing nearby as it tore towards them. Harry twirled on his feet, throwing his wand hand forward, lashing the wooden planks together, forming a wall that encased Lucius. Pivoting on his heels Harry ran for Sam, grabbing her and heaving her to her feet.

"Move!" He ran.

How much time he had, he did not know, but he had to get her away, just far enough away to be out of Lucius' path of destruction. Glenn, where was Glenn? Harry wiped away sweat, or blood, he couldn't quite tell which it was. He could sense two other men approaching them, and a woman, hiding in the bushes. And Glenn and just taken out a third man and was now running in their direction.

His heart raced in the faintest hope they would make it—but it was a stupid, false hope, and it ended in a scream erupting from his lungs as the cruciatus curse sent him stumbling and skidding across the ground. It was just for a second, a split second, and it felt like an eternity to be under it. Another curse jolted his wand arms shoulder, knocking the bone from the socket, causing it to go limp. He vaguely heard Sam's screams, and he prayed to the Lady she hadn't encountered anything of the cruciatus.

Stones crunched beside him and he weakly rolled as Lucius crouched nearby, tapping his head playfully with a piece of bloodied wood. The man's hair was tangled, and his robe at least looked scorched and torn.

"You are, without a doubt, a truly brilliant killer." Lucius crouched over him. "But just not quite there yet, boy."

 _Boy_. How he loathed that word. _Boy_.

Harry spat out blood. Aiming it at the face leaning over him. "And I will kill you, Lucius, if you keep me alive any longer. You better kill me now."

The man had the audacity to laugh at him. "I won't kill you. My Master wishes for that pleasure himself."

"Voldemort is dead."

"Really." Lucius flicked his scar. "Is he now."

He was grabbed by his shirt collar and dragged upright, only to be thrown beside Sam. A gun was aimed directly at her head as he cowled on the ground, holding a bleeding wound at her side. Glenn stood nearby, still clutching his shotgun.

Lucius turned to the man. "Drop it," he ordered.

Glenn threw his weapon to the ground. Harry winced as a stunner was shot at him and he collapsed in a heap.

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Michonne kept herself to the shadows, watching as the boy was dragged into the back of the truck by the Malfoy-Lord Neville so loathed. What she had just witnessed firmly confirmed to her that the boy he had been attacking was a wizard, just like her Neville. She remained hidden, even after the men from Woodbury had driven away and the world had returned to its normalcy, and the only noise was that of nature and the disturbances caused by Walkers.

Then gradually she crept out, checking the area. Perhaps she should have countered herself lucky that Malfoy had found himself something far more interesting to chase than herself. She shivered at the sight of the blood on the cracked road, and the dead man lying in shreds nearby. The boy had put up a fight in a display she had never imagined she would have seen in her life.

But whatever curse Malfoy had thrown at him, it had taken him down without so much as a drop of blood, and she had never heard someone scream like that before, nor did she desire to again.

She crouched beside their abandoned vehicle and spotted it, what would have looked like any random stick to a passer by, was obviously not to her. Neville had described wands often enough, she knew what it was.

Crawling under the jeep, she caught the wand up and pulled back out, studying the smooth wood. It felt so ordinary in her hands. She shrugged, pocketing it. Well, she was a mundane human, after all, couldn't help it. Her attention turned to the baskets—two of them—upturned in the fight, and her heart fluttered.

Baby formula. "Oh no." She crouched beside the baskets, gathering them back up, unspoiled. She had been in half the mind to head back to Woodbury, to find Neville and inform him of the new wizard, but this made all the difference. These people had been here for a reason, an important reason. She gripped her waist for a moment, biting her teeth into her lower lip.

Neville would understand, wouldn't he, if she took just a little longer to come home to him?

Heaving up the baskets she dumped them into the back seat of the vehicle and clambered into the driver's seat. Finding the keys still in the ignition, there for a fast getaway. She sighed. She could only hope coming with an offering would pacify whatever anger she found.

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The bag was ripped off his head. Harry blinked at the sudden influx of light, despite how dim the pokey room was, it was momentarily displacing to be surrounded by light again after such a long drive in darkness. He could smell sweat, and blood, but it could still be his own, or Glenn's beside him. He glanced around. Sam wasn't with them.

"Where is Sam?" He croaked out.

A Mexican man looked down at him, and he noticed it—though he was sure the man didn't mean to let it escape—a look of pity that quickly vanished to be hidden by a scowl. "None of your concern."

"None of…she is _our_ concern, you arse!" Harry spat out. "Where is she? If you touch her, I will rip your throat open!"

The man at least flinched back slightly.

"You're right, Lucius, he's a violent little fellow." A melodious voice caught him off guard. He had not sensed another presence in the room with them, just Glenn and the solider. Harry shuffled around, expanding his aura, and yet nothing, nothing but the sensation of steel walls. His skin chilled. Muggles couldn't mask their aura, that was impossible.

Lounging on a chair, with Lucius standing behind him, like a knight to a king, was a man with a steely cold gaze in bitter blue eyes. His smile was slime, hidden behind perfection, and it sickened Harry to feel it grinning down on him like he was supposed to feel pacified by such a kindly greeting.

"What have you done with Sam?" Glenn spoke up.

"What? No, who am I? No introducing yourselves? You're both so rude." The man scoffed.

"I'm Harry," Harry spat. "This is Glenn. You're the Governor, that's Lucius Malfoy. Now where is Sam?"

"Perhaps if you answer some questions, I might let you see Sam again."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right."

"You see, I'm very curious about a few things." The Governor steepled his fingers on the table. "And I believe you can answer my curiosity."

"Not happening," Glenn hissed. "You attacked us, unprovoked."

"We did?" The Governor touched his chest, looking to Lucius as if confused. "Why, my friend here told me you attacked him."

"Your friend." Harry rolled his eyes. "Your _friend_ is a murdering scumbag."

"Well, we can't all be prefect, can we, Harry Potter," Lucius sneered.

Harry laughed. "Perfect?" He looked around the room. "Oh, you mean me? That's a lark, Lucius. What, are you intimidated by a fifteen-year-old? Please, grow some balls, I know your son at least has some. He didn't get them from _you_."

Lucius stepped forward. The Governor raised a hand, stalling him.

Harry grinned. "Still a lacky, heh? To a Muggle, no less. My, how you have fallen."

The Governor sighed. "You don't look it, but you really do have quite the tongue. Perhaps you would be so inclined to tell me who your leader is then?"

"Nope." Harry shrugged.

"How many of you are there in the prison?"

"I'd rather not say."

The edge of the Governor's lip upturned, like he was enjoying the game of tongue tag. He leant forward, tapping a finger on the table.

"Is a man called Skye there?"

"Who?" Harry blinked a few times.

"Well." The Governor stood. "This has been thrilling, but I do believe these boys need some convincing. Caesar, I leave these lads in your hands. I believe I have a date tonight."

Harry struggled to his knees. "I swear, you touch her—"

The punch landed square on his jaw, knocking him flat and he felt the floor scrape more skin off his face. He heard himself snarl as he heaved himself up, his stomach muscles cramping at the effort. The Governor paused briefly at the door, studying him with a frown. He tried again to sense an aura from the man, anything, just anything, but if he had not been staring directly at him, he would have not known the Governor was even there.

A muggle without any sense of soul. It dried his mouth. No wonder Lucius Malfoy had been drawn to this—this—this _monster_.

"It is a shame, boy, you would be an amazing solider."

"Do not ever, ever call me boy!" Harry shouted. The table, chairs and cupboards within the room shifted backward as though forced aside by an unseen wave. Harry lifted his head, panting heavily. Lucius' was sneering at him.

"I know you can do wandless magic, _boy_ , dislocating your shoulder will keep you down for a while. Don't be stupid and force it out, you'll break every bone in your arm."

"If it kills you, I'd do it."

Lucius shook his head. "I believe you would."

The Malfoy lord stepped out the door and it clipped shut. A sickening sensation filled Harry's stomach and he forced down the bile in his throat. He bowed his head. Sam—where was Sam? He had promised himself he would protect her and the baby, and now this had happened.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, his bound arms dragging him upright. He shouted in pain, his shoulder jostled roughly.

Glenn shouted. "Leave him alone!"

"Oh, we will." Caesar slammed him down into the nearest seat. Harry struggled as his wrists where strapped down tightly. His magic burned through his dislocated shoulder and he resisted the urge to cry frustrated tears. He was just too old for accidental magic, and without a wand, or a wand arm, his magic had no place to flow freely. He had not trained himself to use anything to channel the flow, and now he was paying the price. Caesar grabbed his chin, pulling his face around.

"You have the eyes of a god, lad, if you survive this, perhaps you'll prove your worth."

"And if your leader touches Sam, I'll only be only part of your problem." Harry spat back out. "I swear, I'll burn this place to the ground, but I'll let everyone live. Her husband and my Dad won't be so nice about it. They'll rip through here and kill every last one of you."

Caesar sighed, he motioned to the men standing beside Glenn. "This is getting us nowhere. Go get the gifts."

Harry watched as the men left. It at least gave Glenn a breather. Caesar stood, cleaning his hands with a towel, looking bored.

"Can I ask a question?" Harry piped up.

"That's not how interrogations go."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm a kid." Harry grinned. "Why are you looking for Skye?"

Caesar's eyebrow lifted. "You just gave away that you know him, kid."

"I know, but in exchange, you're going to tell me why you're looking for him."

Caesar sighed. "Governor had a run in with his group awhile back."

"Yeah," Harry tipped his head to one side. "We know. He killed Skye's parents."

Caesar tapped the table top. "Listen, both of yeh, I'm only telling you this because I don't like that…Malfoy fellow. The Governor's my man, I follow him. I am loyal."

It was like he was repeating it, to tell himself something he did not really believe. Harry just nodded.

"Governor didn't kill all of them."

Harry frowned. "Skye's group, some of them are alive?"

Caesar nodded. "You'll be like them, in a minute."

"Like us?"

"Aye. Like you…"

Harry's eyes widened as two walkers were dragged in through the door.

"You'll be entertainment." Caesar clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "Have fun." He loosened the binds on the undead before ducking out the room, slamming the door shut. Harry jerked his head toward Glenn before hell broke loose. He was slammed into the table from behind as the walker attacked. He had no time to process how Glenn was reacting, he could only focus everything on himself and staying alive.

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Sam sat curled in the corner of the dark room. The noises of beating on the other side of the door kept causing her to wince, despite how much she told herself to be brave, that Glenn and Harry could take it, her chest burned with the desire to cry.

A tear finally escaped, rolling down to hang on her chin. Rough fingers brushed it aside and she jerked away, slamming into a solid metal wall. She had not even felt the presence of the man crouched beside her, how had he come into the room without her hearing him?

A rush of gooseflesh beset her body as a chill spread down her neck. It was him—the Governor. She had seen him from a distance, that awful day, when what stability her ruined world had, had been upturned. He may as well have been the very embodiment of the bogeyman, evil-incarnate, the devil himself, leering down upon her like she was prey. Slowly he stood, offering her a hand. She looked at it.

"You're shitting me, right?" She spat out. "Like I'd take your hand."

"Just being a gentleman."

"You can take your gentleman act, and shove it right back up your arse."

"You're not a lady are you."

"I'm a lady to men who deserve a lady."

"Please, let me remove those binds." He stepped forward. "Make you more comfortable."

She was in half the mind to protest the removal of the binds, but his hands grabbed her wrists and before she could speak, he sliced away the ropes with a knife. She snatched back her hands, loathing the touch that made her skin crawl.

"Let them go."

The Governor walked slowly back around a table, tapping his knife to his chin. "Is the man your husband?"

Sam glanced at the ring on her finger. "Glenn…no…"

"Just wondering if he is important to you, if you're important to them?"

Sam frowned. "Of course, they're important."

"Yes, but I have a feeling that they'll endure whatever torture I give them…" he rounded the table and leant against it. "But you, on the other hand, you're the weak link."

She had no time to react to the table being slammed forward, against her, pinning her to the nearby wall. The shock winded her, leaving her wide open for the hand that wrapped tight around her neck. The table scraped across the floor as she felt herself dragged onto it with the full force of the man's strength.

"Take your clothes off," he doled out the order.

Sam smacked her hands against the table, twisting, twisting her heels as she brought her hands up, straining under the grip that held her, she shifted her centre gravity, landing a swift blow against his chin with her elbow. The Governor dropped back a pace. The grin never left his cheeks.

This time she knew his attach was coming. He went low, aiming for the one place he must have known she would have protected with her life. She clapped down on his fist with the palm of her hand, sending it away from her waist. In the next beat, his knife was at her throat, drawing blood.

"Do you really want me to make you?"

She burrowed her nails deeper into the flesh of his arm.

"It'll be the only way you're getting anything. I know what you are, what you do. Even if I tell you what you want…it'll make no difference in the end."

"Well then, I suppose we are doing this the hard way."

Sam saw lights as her head was smacked against the back of the nearby wall.

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Neville wrinkled his nose at the smell of cigar smoke. Merle sat on the steps of the front porch, watching the folk of Woodbury pass them by. The puffs of smoke were blowing right back at him as he leant on the doorframe. Not a muscle in him would unwind, no matter how much he jittered his legs or tapped his fingers. He hadn't felt this strung up and sour-faced since he had been flung through a portkey into America. Perhaps that had been somewhat worse, he had been a chubby little cry-baby back then. All he could do now was feel a constant sense of bottled up frustration growing in his gut, as if fire was building to unleash hell.

Neville breathed out, stepped away from the doorframe. "Merle, will you quit with the smoking, it's making me sick."

"Well, go stand someplace else."

"You know I can't do that. Your stink is the only thing masking me from Lucius Malfoy."

Merle snorted. "See, that's why I'm smoking, to keep you safe."

"I don't mean your smoking stink. I mean your earth magic stink."

"You're being rude, kiddo."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He thumped down the steps on the porch, catching the warmth of the sunlight on his bare neck. He wondered were Andera had gone, if she was grovelling at the ankles of her beloved Governor.

Or worse—

He shook his head. Nope. He was scraping that picture out of his mind forever. "If only I could drink bleach," he muttered.

Merle started laughing. "What have I done to yeh, kiddo. You're sounding like one of us."

"Us?" Neville looked down at the man with a frown. "Who?"

Merle sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Tah, never mind, it ain't important anymore."

Neville shrugged. "Alright, I guess." He turned back to the warm day that they were wasting away doing nothing, and being quite fabulous at it. "You know, I think I'll go make us some lemonade." He started to turn, taking the first step up the porch.

"Ohhh," Merle waved his only hand around. "Fetch some of those cookies you made!"

Neville made a motion to laugh at his energetic boyishness when it came to sweets, only to falter on the second step as his magical core suddenly reacted with a violent ripping sensation.

The breath was torn from his lungs and he staggered.  
His skin was on fire, he could have sworn he was tasting it burning, or was that just Merle's cigar? Any longer and it felt as though it was going to start dripping off his bones. Just what was going on, why was his magical core trying to reach out—

No. He looked up, his eyes widening. His magical core wasn't trying to reach out to anything, it was being pulled on, yanked at, dragged even, by another wizard somewhere nearby.

A wizard experiencing a sudden, horrible experience of being unable to release their magic at all.

"Kid?" Merle shouldered his weight with an arm. "What's going on?"

It was difficult to get the words out around the sudden tightening of his throat as magic surged through him. "Harry…Harry…he's…here…"

He was compelled to move, nothing could have stopped him.


End file.
